HUMOIS  HISTORICAL  SURVEY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  ILLINOIS 

LIBRARY 


Presented  in  1916 

by 
President  Edmund  J.  James 

in  memory  of 
Amanda  K.  Casad 


K38 


EDMUND  J.  .AMES 


COPYRIGHT  1912  BY 

ADA  H.  KEPLEY, 

Effingham,  111. 


A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

A  LOVE  STORY 


-  BY  - 

ADA  H.  KEPLEY 


EDMUND  J.  JAMBS 


'  'Real  knowledge  consists  not  in  an  acquaintance  with  facts, 
which  only  makes  a  pedant,  but  in  the  use  of  facts,  which  makes 
a  philosopher. '  '—B  UCKLE. 


WORMAN'S     PRINTERY, 

TEUTOPOLIS,      ILLINOIS 


To  My  Father  and  Mother — Henry,  and  Ann  M.  Miser; 

To  My  Husband — Henry  B.  Kepley; 

To  My  Sister— Nora  Miser  Scott; 

Who  were  my  teachers  and  my  lovers, 

I  dedicate  this  Book, 


p 


A  LOVE  SONG. 

ToS. — 

I  hear  the  music  of  the  birds, 

On  vine  and  earth  and  tree, 

Their  days  are  full,  their  happy  lives, 

Are  songs  of  jubilee. 

The  rain  comes  down,  the  cold  winds  blow, 
But  soon  the  sun  will  shine, 
And  happiness  among  the  birds, 
Runs  all  along  the  line. 

They  live,  they  love,  they  toil  each  day, 
They  build  their  homes  and  rest, 
They  raise  with  song  and  tender  care 
The  birdlings  in  the  nest. 

The  love  that  flows  through  sun  and  sky 
That  shows  in  grass  and  tree 
Runs  through  the  happy  birdlings  lives 
And  warms  both  you  and  me. 


400617 


ADA  H.  KEPLEY 


A  LOVE  STORY  7 

EFFINGHAM. 

'  'Be  still  my  heart  and  rest, 
Home  staying  hearts  are  happiest" 
—Longfellow. 

Effingham  is  a  little  City  of  five  thousands  people,  at  the 
junction  of  the  Illinois  Central  and  Vandalia  Railroads.  The 
Illinois  Central  runs  from  the  far  North  via  New  Orleans  and 
the  Gulf  through  South  America  so  we  are  in  touch  with  the 
ends  of  the  continent  almost  in  an  air  line  both  ways.  The 
Vandalia  Railroad  is  an  air  line  with  its  connections  from  the 
East  to  Hiwaii  and  the  Phillipines,  from  the -Atlantic  to  the  Pa- 
cific Coast",  and  thence  around  the  earth  Westward  to  the  Al- 
lantic  Coast  again. 

I  have  lived  the  most  of  my  life  in  the  little  town  of  Effing- 
ingham,  Illinois,  and  while  it  is  true  I  have  gone  North,  South, 
East  and  West,  my  life  has  mainly  been  spent  in  its  precincts. 
I  once  upset  the  dignity  of  a  St.  Louis  drummer  by  telling  him 
I  lived  in  a  suburb  of  three  Cities.  "Where  do  you  live"?  he 
politely  asked.  "At  Effingham"  said  I,  and  he  roared,  he 
thought  it  was  such  a  joke.  "Well"  said  I,  "the  women  of 
Effingham  can  run  to  St.  Louis,  Chicago  and  Indianapolis  and 
back,  to  shop,  in  a  day's  time,  and  I'd  like  to  know  if  we  are 
not  suburbanites  to  all  three  of  those  cities"  ?  And  the  whole  of 
us  laughed. 

I  read  in  an  Illinois  Central  year  book  that  when  the  Na- 
tions of  the  earth  met  at  Washington,  D.  C.,  to  determine  the 
length  of  a  maratime  day,  that  a  German  scientist  whose  name 
I  have  forgotten,  wrote  them  that  as  the  matter  involved  the 
renaming  of  standard  time,  that  Central  time  should  be  named 
Effingham  time,  as  geographically  it  was  situated  in  the  exact 
centre  spot  just  as  Greenwich,  England,  is  so  situated  that  long- 
titude  for  the  whole  world  is  reckoned  from  it. 

No  one  knows  how  we  received  our  name,  Effingham. 
There  was  a  Lord  Effingham  in  the  English  fleet  that  whipped 
the  Spanish  Armada.  There  was  an  Effingham  Cock  mixed  up 
with  the  riots  at  Alton,  111.,  when  Owen  Lovejoy  gave  his  life 
for  the  sake  of  a  Great  Reform;  there  are  five  post  offices  by 


8  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

that  name  in  the  land.  This  is  the  most  anyone  knows.  London, 
Berlin,  Delhi,  New  York,  Philadelphia,  St.  Louis,  Chicago, 
Vincennes,  Alton,  Rio  Janiero  and  hundreds  of  large  cities,  and 
small  towns  in  the  old  and  new  worlds  are  well  known  in  song 
and  story  and  otherwise.  This  little  town  of  Effingham  is  not 
known,  but  is  full  of  material  for  the  poet,  the  prose  writer  and 
historian,  as  well  as  of  material  plenty  for  a  writer  of  fiction; 
but  no  one  has  found  it  out  as  yet,  though  we  have  some  who 
are  able  with  the  pen  in  prose  and  poetry.  As  I  said  I  have  lived 
the  most  of  my  life  in  Effingham  and  I  have  not  lost  much  of 
the  rest  of  the  world,  for  it  has  come  to  me.  Life  has  been 
strenuous,  eventful  and  valuable.  I  do  not  see  why  the  people 
of  every  town  everywhere  may  not  find  happiness  and  interest 
at  home.  All  one  needs  is  to  be  himself  or  herself  and  to  fear 
nothing  and  nobody,  and  to  get  knowledge;  wisdom  will  come, 
the  Good  Book  says.  The  poets,  the  historians,  the  writers  are 
all  mine,  and  the  best  there  is  is  mine;  as  are  the  events  of  each 
day  the  whole  world  round,  thanks  to  the  great  newspapers.  I 
do  not  see  as  we  need  miss  any  of  the  real  life  no  matter  where 
we  are,  and  as  like  comes  to  like,  we  shall  in  due  season  know 
and  be  known  by  everybody  worth  while  to  us,  and  we  shall 
not  have  lived  in  vain.  I  think  Effingham  is  just  as  good  as 
anywhere  else,  and  so  I  am  as  satisfied  to  stay. 

I  have  known  artists,  lawyers,  doctors,  preachers,  poets, 
orators,  judges,  reformers  and  people  from  far  and  near  of  note, 
as  well  as  others  who  had  no  claim  to  greatness  but  who  did 
much  for  their  day  and  generation.  I  cannot  say  I  missed 
much  I  wished  for.  My  life  has  been  full  of  zest  and  is  yet.  I 
have  had  adventures  of  all  sorts,  and  the  way  is  open  for  many 
more.  I  have  lived  an  adventurous  life  in  a  little  town.  I  would 
be  glad  to  live  a  long  time  yet,  and  I  can  think  of  things  to 
keep  me  busy  and  that  will  interest  me  for  a  hundred  years  to 
come.  What  is  done  in  one  place  can  be  done  in  another. 
There  is  no  town  large  or  small  but  has  material  for  historic 
and  romantic  tales;  all  that  is  needed  is  some  one  who  sees  be- 
low the  surface  of  men  and  women  and  things,  and  idealizes 
the  common  and  ordinary,  and  translates  the  loves  of  hearts  and 
lives  into  language  and  picturing,  that  all  may  read  and  under- 
stand. There  is  an  enchantment  that  comes  with  years  and 


A  LOVE  STORY  9 

the  older  places  have  it,  but  all  places  are  growing  to  thaL 
Time  has  a  glamour  all  its  own,  but  every  heart  has  a  history 
in  modern  as  well  as  in  ancient  times,  and  given  a  sympathetic 
setting,  can  make  a  tale  worth  the  reading.  Everywhere  men 
and  women  give  local  color  to  their  narratives  and  I  do  the 
same  to  the  place  where  I  have  lived  and  loved,  and  still  love— 
Effingham. 

Stratford  on  Avon,  Abbotsford,  The  Lake  Country,  Gad's 
Hill,  Concord,  Brook  Farm,  The  Hermitage,  Mt.  Vernon,  Rest 
Cottage,  thousands  of  places  are  dear  to  us  as  the  seats  of 
genius.  They  were  homes  for  great  men  and  women  who 
loved  to  stay  at  home,  finding  it  best,  and  bringing  forth  the 
best  within  themselves. 

Now  that  so  many  are  City  mad,  it  is  good  we  culture  the 
love  of  home,  of  the  small  places,  and  of  the  farm,  and  bring; 
forth  the  best  we  can  in  ourselves  everywhere.  It  is  true—  "To* 
stay  at  Home  is  best. ' '  The  farms  and  the  small  places  produce 
the  most  vigorous  minded  men  and  women  after  all. 


10  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


I  TAKE  A  NEW  PART  IN  THE  PLAY  OF  LIFE. 

"All  the  ivorld'sa  stage,  and  all  the  men  and  women  merely 
players;  each  have  their  exits  and  their  entrances  and  one  man 
in  his  time  plays  many  parts".— Shakespeare 


I  have  been  in  time,  a  school  girl,  a  practicer  of  all  the  do- 
mestic arts,  a  wife,  a  housekeeper,  a  teacher,  a  preacher,  a  law- 
yer, a  reformer,  an  editor,  the  leader  of  a  high  cult  Emerson 
Club,  an  official  in  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  for  many  years.  I  was  or- 
dained to  the  Unitarian  Ministry  under  Rev.  Jasper  L.  Douthet's 
ministrations.  I  am  the  first  woman  graduate  of  a  law  school 
in  the  world;  I  hold  a  degree  as  a  Bachelor  of  Laws  from  the 
University  of  Chicago,  graduating  in  June  1870  under  Judge 
Henry  Booth  of  Chicago,  as  Dean  of  the  Law  Department.  I 
am  an  honorary  member  of  the  State  Bar  Association  of  Ill- 
inois, and  of  the  Mexican  War  Veterans,  and  hold  a  Ph  D.  de- 
gree and  other  trophies  I  have  won  as  I  ran  my  race.  These 
things  came  to  me  after  my  marriage.  I  have  had  an  adven- 
turous life  in  a  little  town,  and  in  it  all  I  was  aided  and  abetted 
by  my  husband,  Henry  B.  Kepley,  who  was  a  member  of  the 
Effingham  County  Bar. 

There  came  to  my  house  on  a  winter  day  that  Power  to 
whom  no  one  may  say  "No",  and  when  my  beloved  was  borne 
away  and  I  sat  in  the  ashes  of  my  home,  life  seemed  hardly 
worth  the  effort  to  keep  it.  The  dejection  of  my  loss  was  upon 
me,  and  nothing  seemed  worth  while.  My  spirit  was  in  abey- 
ance to  my  body,  which  was  out  of  vigor.  Child  in  my  house 
there  was  none;  my  kindred,  what  few  were  left,  were  far 
away;  my  soul  turned  upon  herself  and  dwelt  alone.  I  thought 
of  what  good  old  Job's  wife  said  to  him,  and  felt— Who  was  I, 
who  needed  me,  and  the  paltry  things  I  did? 

But  there  were  houses  and  lands  and  things  that  I  was  in 
duty  and  honor  bound  to  look  after,  and  that  had  been  com- 
mitted to  my  care,  and  I  decided  I  would  take  a  new  part  in 
the  play  of  life  and  become  a  farmer,  and  see  if  that  would 
take  me  out  of  the  deadly  miasma  of  grief. 


A  LOVE  STORY  11 

I  remembered  "Nature  never  did  betray  the  heart  that 
loved  her".  I  had  never  had  all  the  ground  I  wanted  to  dig  in> 
nor  time  for  it.  I  loved  the  woods,  the  fields,  the  blue  sky,, 
the  cattle  and  everything  that  lived— almost.  . 

I  was  absolutely  free  to  do  as  I  pleased.  I  was  responsible 
to  nobody  but  the  good  God  and  myself,  I  resolved  to  be  a 
farmer— an  up-to-date  one  if  I  could.  Agriculture  I  had  always 
loved,  and  agricultural  books,  papers  and  pamphlets,  and  stock 
and  fruit  papers  charmed  me  to  read.  I  talked  with  farmers 
and  watched  the  fields,  but  I  was  a  town  bred  woman ;  I  had 
never  lived  on  a  farm  in  my  life,  just  visited  on,  and  enjoyed 
the  life  of  the  farmer,  Some  of  my  friends  were  horrified  at 
the  decision  I  made,  a  few  patted  me  on  the  back  and  said 
'That's  right".  The  life  long  physician  of  my  household,  Dr. 
J.  B.  Walker, —himself  a  lover  of  the  farm,  and  a  farmer,— ap- 
proved of  my  venture  heartily,  and  prophesied  success  for  me. 
My  early  death  was  foretold  by  some,  but  I  was  determined  to 
be  a  farmer.  I  suppose  it  did  look  foolish,  but  I  had  to  ride 
over  many  things  my  friends  declared  foolish, —and  that  did 
not  turn  out  that  way. 

I  set  my  town  affairs  in  the  best  order  I  could.  My  dear 
home  was  dismantled;  that  was  now  a  part  of  my  past,  and  I 
was  like  Columbus  afloat  on  a  to  me,  uncharted  sea. 

My  farm  is  in  Mason  township,  Effingham  County,  Illinois. 
It  has  prairie,  bottom  and  upland  fields,  and  much  pasture  land. 
The  little  Wabash  River  and  Fulfer  Creek  run  through  it.  It 
is  fructified  by  many  living  springs,  There  is  much  timber  on 
it,  grand  old  trees,  and  trees  coming  on;  lovely  ravines  with 
gray  old  rocks— and  ferns  and  mosses  and  wild  flowers  and 
pools  of  water  where  the  cattle  and  other  stock  drink,  and 
things  that  minister  to  the  sense  and  love  of  grandeur  and 
beauty.  From  my  upper  window  I  can  see  the  gray  old  covered 
wagon  bridge,  a  relic  of  the  past,  that  crosses  the  Wabash 
River,  and  just  beyond  that  are  the  great  arches  of  the  magni- 
ficent concrete,  Illinois  Central  Railroad  bridge  that  stretch 
across  the  river  like  an  old  Roman  Aqueduct — the  old  and  new 
in  sharp  contrast.  This  body  of  land  was  once  all  timber  but 
had  been  cleared  and  used  as  a  stock  farm  by  my  husband,  and 
there  were  horses  and  cattle  and  hogs  upon  it  when  it  came  to- 


12  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

me— and  farm  implements.  There  were  barns  and  granaries, 
sheds  and  hoghouses  and  dwellings.  There  were  bottom  and 
upland  fields  in  cultivation,  but  the  most  was  grazing  land. 

The  first  year  I  kept  "the  boss"  who  was  on  the  place 
when  it  came  to  me.  At  the  beginning  of  the  second  year  he 
left  me,  and  I  became  "Boss",  myself,  and  am  yet. 

To  learn  my  farm  I  walked  fence  lines,  tramped  and  drove 
over  the  bottom  and  upland  fields  and  waste  places  and  racked 
my  brain  for  plans  for  the  upbuilding  of  my  new  venture.  I 
repaired  my  barns  and  granaries;  I  hauled  the  houses  to  better 
situations,  I  built  new  granaries,  and  hog  houses;  made  a  big 
chicken-house  and  a  big  cellar  in  a  bank,  likewise.  I  fixed  up 
a  new  house  of  several  detached  buildings  for  myself. 

I  hired  men,  who  cut  trees,  made  posts,  set  them  and  strung 
fences — making  new  fields— which  had  to  be  cleared  up  and 
made  ready  for  the  plough.  We  ploughed  broken  land  to  rid 
it  of  briars  and  brush  and  planted  meadows  to  succeed  them; 
burned  stumps;  cleared  fence  corners,  cut  brush  and  briars.  I 
planted  an  orchard,  and  small  fruits  a'nd  garden  stuff,  and 
shrubs,  flowers  and  evergreens  to  make  the  farm  useful  and 
beautiful  together.  I  stocked  up  with  pigeons,  chickens,  turk- 
eys and  peacocks.  I  worked  just  as  a  woman  does  when  she 
goes  into  new  premises,  to  get  things  in  order.  Agricultural 
books  and  papers  of  all  kinds  I  read  and  re-read.  I  read  seed 
and  plant  catalogues  which  are  fascinating  and  valuable  and 
mostly  true,  if  they  do  contain  a  few  fables.  I  read  National 
and  State  Bulletins  of  all  sorts  on  agriculture.  I  drove  thirty 
or  forty  miles  each  week,  climbed  fences  and  hay-mows,  cut 
brush,  piled  and  burned  it,  fired  and  destroyed  stumps,  raked  hay, 
rode  the  wagons,  on  hay  loads  and  otherwise,  hammered  and 
sawed  and  nailed,  sent  logs  to  th?  mill,  tried"  experiments, 
raised  hogs,  etc.  until  I  began  to  digest  food  and  sleep  of  nights 
once  more.  So  I  played  my  new  part  on  the  stage  of  life,  and 
still  do.  I  am  called  a  good  farmer,  which  I  hope  is  true. 
Farm  life  is  strenuous,  but  it  has  its  compensations  in  plenty, 
and  I  love  my  new  part  in  the  play. 


A  LOVE  STORY  13 

THE  BEAUTY  AND  CHARM  OF  MY  FARM. 


My  farm  has  many  beautiful  and  interesting  places  and 
things  upon  it.  There  are  great  ravines  where  the  water  once 
upon  a  time,  when  the  world  was  new,  ran  deep,  and  I  find  flat 
stones  that  once  were  round,  but  that  the  great  glaciers  miles 
high  above  the  earth,  ground  flat  and  left  to  make  the  record 
of  their  travels  good.  I  wonder  sometimes  if,  when  the  sea 
came  and  went  upon  my  land  and  the  solid  earth  rose  and  fell 
with  internal  convulsions,  if  it  left  far  down  in  deeps  that  I  can 
never  reach  that  marvelous  oil  that  has  lubricated  the  earth 
and  lit  it  up  with  useful  light  and  fires  and  shocked  the  people 
with  its  millions.  I  wonder  if  those  old  Saurians  and  Mam- 
moths and  other  semi-amphibians,  lie  waiting  the  magic  touch 
of  the  drill  and  pump  and  air  and  barrel  for  me?  But  the  grass 
is  green  on  bank  and  bottom  and  hill-side,  and  gray  old 
rocks  and  mosses  and  ferns  and  blooming  plants  and  trees, 
grand  and  majestic,  are  sweet  and  gay  with  bud  and  bloom, 
and  awake  the  sense  of  beauty  now.  I  wish  I  could  strike  oil! 

The  woods  are  full  of  sly  foxes  and  funny  woodchucks, 
coon,  and  possum,  and  squirrels,  red  and  gray  chattering  in 
the  trees;  the  chipmunks  haunt  my  granaries,  and  field  mice, 
and  birds  make  wild  scrambles  on  the  ground  and  delight  me. 
The  quiet  waters  of  Fulfer  Creek  and  the  little  Wabash  River 
shimmer  in  the  sun  and  darken  in  the  shade.  There  are  game 
fish  in  these  streams  and  every  shallow  is  full  of  darting  min- 
nows; craw-fish  kick  and  scramble;  the  slow  mussel  in  pearly 


14  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

shells  leaves  trails  in  the  shallow  rapids.  I  wish  I'd  find  some 
pearls  within  their  grasp.  Along  the  Creek  and  River  Banks 
the  mink  and  muskrat  make  their  burrows,  and  coon  and  pos- 
sum leave  their  human  like  tracks  where  they  search  for  food. 
The  love  songs  of  the  great  and  little  owls  are  heard  by  day  and 
night.  The  prairie  chickens  boom  on  my  meadows;  quail  in 
coveys  creep  or  run  or  fly  and  shock  me  as  they  burst  the  quiet 
of  the  air  with  wing  and  feather.  I  hear  the  singing  of  the 
ring- tailed  coons  from  many  a  tree,  the  birds  are  mad  with  joy; 
the  rabbits  set  the  dogs  crazy  to  chase  them,  and  fool  them  to 
their  hearts  content,  and  make  one  laugh  to  see  how  cute  they 
are. 

The  wild  Cherry  veils  itself  in  white  and  feeds  the  bees  in 
summer  and  the  birds  in  autumn ;  the  delicious  odor  and  color 
of  the  wild  crab  intoxicates  one  with  its  breath  in  May,  and 
feeds  us  with  a  wholesome  and  aromatic  fruit  in  October.  The 
Alders,  with  lovely  feathery  blooms  give  us  joy  in  June  and  in 
September  bow  with  rich  treasures  for  the  housewife.  The 
redbud  and  sassafrass  and  linden  and  sarvice  berry  and  black- 
berries bud,  bloom,  and  the  berries  ripen  and  make  us  rich  with 
food.  The  wild  rose  in  turn  exalts  one.  The  walnut  and  hick- 
ory trees  pelt  us  with  their  nuts  in  November;  the  wild  grapes 
bloom  and  scent  the  air  in  Spring,  and  in  October  after  the 
frosts  come  we  feed  upon  their  dainty  fruit.  Titania,  Oberon 
and  Puck  and  Mustardseed,  and  Peas  blossom,  and  Cobweb, 
play  hide-and-seek  writh  me;  I  think  I  see  them  but  they  hide 
behind  the  trees.  I  know  the  brownies  run  and  creep  and  crawl 
and  climb  and  work  for  me.  The  fauns,  the  dryads,  the  hama- 
dryiads  peek  at  me,  but  I  cannot  coax  them  into  view.  The 
water  nymphs  are  here,  I  see  the  bubbles  on  the  water  where 
they  sink  from  view.  I  hear  Pan  piping  in  the*  reeds ;  he  woos 
me,  but  he  will  not  come  no  matter  how  I  plead.  The  Satyrs 
all  have  fled,  the  sylvan  shades— I  see  them  stumbling  in  and 
out  on  crooked  goat  legs  all  about  the  town,  I  revel  in  the 
charm  and  Beauty  of  my  Farm. 


A  LOVE  STORY  15 

MY  FATHER  AND  MOTHER. 

My  Mother  was  a  faithful  woman,  giving  all  good  gifts  to 
her  children,  sacrificing  everything  if  need  be,  for  their  good. 
She  was  a  lover  of  the  good  and  beautiful  and  true,  and  all  that 
made  life  better  and  she  taught  it  to  her  children. 

My  Father  was  a  kindly  man  who  loved  Nature.  I  learned 
soil  culture  from  him,  as  a  small  child.  What  a  nice  garden  he 
always  had,  and  how  I  loved  to  tag  after  him  in  it  and  imitate 
him  later  on  and  now.  He  was  a  good  reader  and  loved  the 
best  as  my  mother  also  did.  Shakespeare  was  at  hand  for 
every  child,  and  books  and  poets  and  papers  and  good  writers 
and  our  mother  would  read  to  us  in  the  long  winter  evening— 
often  from  Dickens  and  Bulwer  Litton. 

My  Mother  taught  us  to  pray  at  her  knee  and  to  kiss  each 
other.  She  taught  us  all  the  quaint  old  stories  of  the  Bible, 
and,  I  was  a  surprise  to  the  Preachers  who  took  me  on  their 
knees  for  a  quiz,  for  I  was  the  best  one  of  her  little  folks  to  re- 
member. How  thankful  I  am  that  I  had  a  Father  and  Mother 
who  shaped  me  for  good,  for  as  my  life  runs  to  and  fro  with  all 
my  errors  and  mistakes,  and  who  does  not  make  them,  the  de- 
sire for  good,  and  to  do  good  they  planted  in  me  and  cultured, 
comes  more  and  more  to  the  front  in  my  life.  With  the  in- 
stinct that  way  I  had  from  godly  ancestors  I  have  been  able  to 
keep,  as  the  Free  Methodists  say  "  Right  ivith  God"  lean  in  their 
quaint  phraesology  say  "praise  to  God",  and  I  can  understand 
things  that  make  for  righteousness.  Many  have  hated  me  and 
a  man  once  told  me  the  devil  would  get  me.  I  said  '  'Have  I 
ever  served  the  devil  since  you  knew  me"?  He  grinned. 
"No",  I  said,  "and  what's  more  I  never  did,  and  I'd  like  to 
know  what  the  devil  could  do  with  me  if  I  got  into  hell.  I 
never  served  him  on  this  earth  and  I  surely  would  not  serve 
him  there,  and  I'm  mighty  certain  he'd  have  a  job  on  his  hands 
if  he  got  me  for  I'd  give  him  a  plenty  to  do,  and  I'll  warrant 
he'd  get  rid  of  me  as  quick  as  he  could,  like  the  woman  he  gave 
the  shoes  to  for  fear  she'd  take  his  throne". 

My  Mother  loved  flowers,  and  was  dainty  in  her  ways,  in 
dress,  she  had  beautiful  things,  was  high  minded  in  every  wray. 
My  father  loved  to  see  her  have  the  best  and  he  made  her  beautiful 


16  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

gifts.  She  loved  to  read  to  her  children  and  she  taught  them 
how  to  work  and  respect  work.  She  taught  them  to  be  honor- 
able. She  was  also  a  good  cook  and  house-keeper  and  taught 
us. 

My  Father  loved  animals.  His  horses,  dogs,  hogs  and  cats 
would  follow  him  whenever  they  saw  him,  and  would  squeal, 
moo  or  bark  or  whinny  or  grunt  to  him.  He  loved  flowers  and 
always  cultivated  them  in  his  garden.  He  was  an  ingenious 
worker  in  woods  and  metals  and  there  wasn't  an  idle  bone  in 
his  body;  and  my  mother  matched  him  in  industry. 

My  Father  and  Mother  are  still  alive  to  me.  I  think  of 
them  so  often  and  long  to  see  and  speak  with  them.  I  ask 
their  pardon  many  times  when  I  am  alone  in  the  silences  of  the 
night  for  my  shortcomings  towards  them,  and  it  comforts  me 
to  feel  I  am  forgiven. 

I  wrote  a  little  poem  after  my  Mother's  death;  that  was  a 
consolation  for  it  was  to  her  I  wrote  it. 


A  LOVE  STORY 


'MOEGE  IHR  DIE  ERDE  LEICHT  SEIN". 

-TO  MY  MOTHER.- 

Rest  softly  earth  upon  her  breast, 
Who  nourished  me  in  helplessness, 
Who  gave  the  home,  that  blessed  nest- 
Rich  largess  of  unselfishness. 

Rest  softly  earth,  upon  the  heart, 
That  beat  with  constant  tenderness 
For  all  whom  she,  with  loving  art, 
Gave  daily  of  her  helpfulness. 

Rest  softly  over  silent  lips 
That  ever  smiled  in  cheerfulness; 
O'er  clasped  hands  and  quiet  feet; 
O'er  eyes  that  shone  forgivingness. 

Oh,  Earth,  we  lay  her  in  thy  breast; 
Our  hearts  feel  grief's  deep  bitterness, 
As  here  we  place  her,  long  to  rest, 
Our  souls  feel  all  life's  littleness. 

Though  grief  may  wear  the  stricken  heart, 
That  mourns  its  loss  in  humanness, 
Rest  softly,  till  no  more  we  part, — 
She  taught  us  faith's  bright  hopefulness. 


18 


MY  PARTNER. 


HENRY  B.    KEPLEY. 

Eve  was  a  married  woman,  but  Adam  seems  to  have  put 
no  limitation  on  her  as  a  wife,  and  if  what  she  did  caused  the 
human  race  to  want  knowledge  and  wisdom  she  was  surely  a 
great  impulse  for  her  own  good  as  well  as  for  all  others  down 
the  ages  to  now.  If  she  made  it  possible  and  certain  that  all 
men  and  woman  had  to  work,  instead  of  loaf,  that  was  surely 
a  matter  or  great  benefit  to  the  human  race  and  she  ought  to 
have  credit  for  it.  If  it  had  not  been  for  her,  if  the  old  ortho- 
doxy is  true,  I  should  never  have  been  a  farmer.  Debora  was 
a  married  woman;  her  husband's  name  was  "Lapidoth"  and 


A  LOVE  STORY  19 

Holy  writ  does  not  see  fit  to  make  any  record  of  him  except  his 
name.  Debora  was  Supreme  Judge,  Prophet  and  Commander- 
in-chief  of  the  armies  of  Israel,  in  line  with  the  law  laid  down 
in  Genesis  1st,  26th  and  27th  verses.  That  woman  of  Pro- 
verbs 31,  the  virtuous  woman  whose  price  was  far  above  rubies 
was  a  married  woman  and  she  taught  her  son  thousands  of 
years  before  Christ  the  exact  true  and  righteous  status  of  man 
and  woman  as  husband  and  wife,  and  she  was  an  absolutely 
free  woman  just  as  women  ought  to  be  now.  This  clearly  ap- 
pears—that the  highest  good  a  woman  can  do  her  husband  is  to 
be  free,  and  the  highest  good  a  man  can  do  to  himself  as  well 
as  to  his  wife  is  not  to  meddle  with  her  freedom.  Tennyson 
has  sensed  the  truth  of  God,  and  followed  it  with  his  celebrated 
theme  in  "The  Princess".  "The  woman's  cause  is  Man's;  they 
rise  or  sink  together  dwarfed  or  Godlike,  bond  or  free".  I 
have  always  urged  women— "If  you  want  your  husbands  to  be 
somebody,  get  out  yourself ".  "If  you  men  want  to  be  some- 
body, push  your  wives  out".  I  have  often  asked  audiences  "I 
suppose  you  have  always  heard  that  a  woman  who  went  out  of 
her  home  to  do  things  henpecked  her  husband.  Haven't  you 
heard  that?"  And  any-body  with  one  eye  could  read  that  belief 
in  their  faces.  "You  think  old  maids  and. widows  may  go  out 
and  do  public  work  but  the  married  woman  must  stay  home?" 
Well,  the  Good  Book  teaches  otherwise;  now  if  men  want  to  be 
somebody  they  must  push  their  wives  out,  and  women  must  get 
out  to  help  their  husbands  to  do  their  best. 

My  Partner,  Henry  B.  Kepley,  urged  me  to  attend  law 
school  and  I  was  away  from  my  home  and  him  for  nine  months 
in  the  second  year  of  our  married  life,  with  only  an  occasional 
visit  home  or  from  him.  It  was  hard  on  both  of  us,  for  we 
loved  each  other,  but  we  stuck  it  out.  He  urged  me  to  all  sorts 
of  deeds,  and  sought  things  for  me.  I  remember  once  at  a 
Prohibition  State  Convention  he  did  his  best  to  get  me  a  nomi- 
nation as  State  Superintendent  of  Public  Instruction.  I  was 
rather  shocked  I  own  for  it  was  a  secret  to  me  till  the  last 
moment  but  he  saw  no  reason  why  not.  I'd  have  received  the 
nomination  only  some  one  raised  the  cry  I  was  a  Unitarian  as 
he  was  also  and  that  killed  off  the  matter,  for  at  that  time  the 
Unitarian  was  a  sort  of  Hobgoblin  among  the  Orthodox.  So 


20  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

the  honor  was  given  to  a  man  who  never  did  very  much.  I 
should  have  canvassed  the  State  for  the  office,  but  it  was  not 
to  be;  but  my  Partner  sought  that  honor  for  me.  I  was  a  very 
hard  fighter  against  saloons  and  I  did  many  things  that  brought 
me  into  trouble,  and  when  I  got  in  too  deep,  my  Partner  would 
pull  me  out,  and  he  never  reproached  me  which  was  a  great 
comfort,  for  it  was  hard  for  me  to  do  many  things  I  did.  Once 
in  a  while  when  I  went  sailing  too  high  as  he  thought  he'd 
caution  me,  but  I'd  say  "See  here,  I've  sat  at  your  feet  all 
these  years  Master,  and  you  taught  me;  I  am  following  my 
teachings".  He  would  say  no  more.  Once  when  I  had  been 
beaten  over  the  head  by  a  mad  saloon  keeper  he  bought  a  big 
black  cane.  I  knew  what  that  meant.  It  was  not  easy  for  a 
man  to  see  his  wife  beaten  and  he  not  strike;  it  looked  cowardly. 
But  I  said,  '  'See  here,  you  will  not  use  that  stick.  We  can  take 
beatings  but  we  will  not  give  beatings",  and  so  it  ended.  But 
it  was  hard  for  him  to  swallow  such  an  insult  to  his  wife;  he 
was  a  large  man  six  feet  tall  and  weighed  about  200  pounds. 
But  for  a  great  principle  he  could,  and  did.  The  big  stick 
I  have  yet,  but  he  is  not  here  and  I  walk  alone  with  my  memor- 
ries.  When  I  was  arrested  for  tearing  down  pictures,  and 
tried  in  a  Justice's  Court,  he  made  a  fine  defense  for  me.  In 
Circuit  Court  he  made  defense  for  me  again,  with  Judge  Wm. 
Wright  of  our  bar.  As  an  honored  and  able  member  of  the  Bar, 
belonging  to  the  State  Bar  Association,  as  President  of  a  Col- 
lege, as  President  of  the  Old  Settlers'  Association  as  an  L.  L. 
D.  and  leading  all  sorts  of  enterprises  for  the  public  good,  he 
was  a  busy  and  a  useful  man.  He  kept  The  Temple  open  for 
twenty  years  where  all  Christian  people  might  preach  free  of 
charge  and  that  was  an  open  house  for  all  temperance  work 
and  workers  and  where  he  helped  teach  children  and  youth  for 
twenty  years;  it  was  a  place  where  all  reformers  could  find  a 
chance  for  free  expression.  He  was  a  contributor  to  all  move- 
ments for  the  public  good;  he  was  not  without  what  the  world 
calls  honors.  When  he  was  a  young  man  he  made  his  will  be- 
cause the  laws  were  not  just  to  women,  and  robbed  her,  and  he 
left  all  he  had  or  hoped  to  have,  to  his  wife.  He  was  a  few 
years  older  than  I  was,  and  the  old  will  made  by  the  young 
man  and  yellowed  with  the  years  was  the  one  I  filed  when  he 


A  LOVE  STORY 


21 


was  called  from  "Labor  to  Repose",  and  my  farm,  which  has 
been  my  salvation,  came  to  me  along  with  other  things  from 
him. 

When  He  who  "Set  the  solitary  in  families"  made  the 
law,  He  made  man,  male  and  female  created  He  them,  and  He 
gave  them  dominion  over  all  his  works.  My  Partner  measured 
up  to  the  law  of  God.  He  was  a  self  made  man,  coming  up 
from  hard  pioneer  days  in  Illinois,  and  from  the  farm.  He  was 
six  feet  high,  of  a  good  breadth  and  of  a  noble  port  and  was 
called  handsome.  He  told  me  he  had  a  dream  in  which  I  ap- 
peared to  him  and  that  when  he  saw  me  first  he  knew  me,  so  I 
was  a  dream  wife.  He  was  a  faithful  and  good  friend,  my 
Partner,  whose  memory  I  revere  and  whose  business  I  look  af- 
ter as  well  as  I  can,  and  who  I  hope  to  meet  again. 


THE  COLLEGE. 


22  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


THY  HAND. 

A  LOVE  LETTER  TO  MY  HUSBAND. 

Dear  hand,  upon  my  head, 

I  feel  thee  gently  fall, 

Soft,  cool,  and  caressing,  and  all 

My  dear  love  is  to  me,  thy  subtle  charm, 

Though  palm,  and  finger  tips, 

And  pulsing  heart  beats  warm, 

Brings  o'er  me  like  a  spell; 

The  world  far  from  me  slips, 

And  I  remember  nothing, — only  thee — ; 

And  sweet  content,  like  poppy  juice,  possessifme: 

And  so  I  rest  secure  in  happy  dreams 

That  thou  beloved  hand,  hast  brought  to  me. 


A  LOVE  STORY  23 

AN  EPIC  OF  THE  CORN  FIELDS. 

We  love  the  worlds  great  Epics,  those  records  of  great 
deeds — and  greater  men— The  Illiad.  The  Odessy,  The  Aeneid, 
The  Kalevala,  the  legends  of  the  Rhine,  the  Sagas  of  the 
Norsemen,  the  Greek  and  Roman  Mythologies,  Paradise  Lost  and 
Regained,  Dante  and  the  folk  songs  of  all  peoples.  When  it 
has  the  benediction  of  the  ages  upon  it,  Hiawatha  will  be  the 
great  American  Epic;  all  it  lacks  is  the  flavor  and  the  tang  of 
time,  it  is  history  and  it  is  saga,  it  is  full  of  that  subtle  power 
and  grace  and  beauty  that  makes  the  Epic.  Hiawatha  is  not 
merely  a  record  of  the  past;  it  lives  and  runs  upon  our  farms, 
inspired  and  inspiring. 

The  story  of  Mondamin  is  repeated  every  year  upon  our 
fields.  We  receive  the  gift  of  "Gitchie  Manitou,  the  Mighty," 
to  save  the  people.  We  make  each  year  the  bed  so  soft  and 
fine,  and  there  we  lay  the  beautiful  Mondamin;  and  when  the 
sun  and  dew  and  rain  have  done  their  work  and  we  have  done 
ours  too,  out  of  the  dark  earth  comes  the  gift  of  God,  the  Indian 
Maize  or  Corn,  clad  in  beautiful  garments  of  green  and  gold. 
What  more  beautiful  than  the  long  green  ribbons  of  the  corn 
fields;— the  plumy  coronets  that  crown  Mondamin's  head,  and 
that  shed  the  fructifying  magic,  that  is  caught  in  gold  and 
green  and  ruddy  silken  tassels  that  protect  and  warm  the 
tender  embryo  of  the  corn!  The  air  is  heavy  with  the  perfume 
of  Mondamin's  body  as  he  does  the  work  of  God  within  our 
fields.  The  corn  is  now  fructified,  now  set  in  kernels,  the 
work  runs  on  with  rapid  steps  and  when  the  first  frosts,  come 
the  miracle  of  life  and  growth  and  sun  and  rain  and  dew  is  all 
accomplished,  and  the  ripened  corn  is  ready  for  the  garner. 
All  over  the  land  the  horses  trample  the  earth  and  draw  the 
treasures  of  the  fields  in  great  wagons  to  the  store-houses. 
There  is  peace  and  plenty  when  the  corn  is  good.  The  cattle 
are  intoxicated  with  the  odor  of  the  grain,  and  their  desire  for 
it,  and  they  break  out  if  not  watched.  The  fowls  and  stock 
hang  round  the  graineries  for  the  waste  from  the  wagons,  and 
are  happy.  The  world  is  fed,  for  American  ships,  and  the  ships 
of  other  Nations  carry  our  corn  everywhere  over  the  earth. 
Corn  kitchens  at  the  great  Inter-national  Expositions  call  the 


24  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

world's  attention  to  corn  as  food.  Wheat  flour  is  enriched  by 
the  fine  flour  of  the  corn,  and  finds  a  ready  market.  Money 
and  riches  of  all  sorts  flow  from  Mondamin,  the  Indian  Maize 
that  was  the  gift  of  God  in  answer  to  the  prayers  of  Hiawatha, 
who  loved  and  prayed  and  suffered  for  his  people,  to  save  them 
from  hunger  and  starvation.  Syrup  and  sugar  and  starch  and 
all  sorts  of  things  are  made  from  the  Indian  corn,  and  corn  stalks 
and  silk  and  peth. 

As  no  land  is  like  ours,  so  rich  in  outlook  and  uplift,  so  no 
Epic  is  or  can  be  like  our  Hiawatha  with  the  story  of  the  Corn. 
I  love  to  follow  the  men  on  my  farm  as  their  plough  shares 
cleave  the  mellow  soil.  I  love  to  take  my  gentle  and  good  team, 
Dan  and  Don,  and  drive  the  drag  and  haul  the  harrow  to  and 
fro  across  the  fields,  behind  the  plow  men,  and  help  to  make 
the  bed  all  good  and  gracious  for  Mondamin.  The  horses  are 
obedient  to  my  will— I  love  them  for  it  and  they  love  me  back 
again.  The  sky  sends  blessings  on  me  from  above,  the  earth 
beneath  gives  vigor  to  my  frame.  Like  Antaeus,  the  earth  is 
my  Mother,  and  when  I  touch  her  she  strengthens  me;  the  birds 
singing  in  the  trees  and  full  of  life  refresh  my  soul.  The  hoot 
of  the  owl  on  yonder  tree  is  a  love  song  as  I  know,  and  I  am 
glad  I  am  a  farmer. 

I  do  not,  like  the  Indian  squaws  at  night,  sans  garments 
walk  my  fields  and  drag  my  clothing  after  me  and  strive  to 
fructify  the  fields,  but  I  drive  the  drag  and  harrow  in  the  sun- 
light and  sometimes  I  walk  the  fresh  ploughed  earth  in  bare 
feet— which  I  suppose  would  suit  old  Father  Kneipp  as  it  suited 
me;  the  warm  soft  earth  is  pleasant  to  my  body  and  I  am  more 
wholesome  for  it. 

The  Maize  is  genial  to  culture;  planted  early  it  is  said  to 
bring  the  best  result,  but  one  can  plant  it  later  and  reap  a  har- 
vest. I  had  a  bottom  field  that,  contrary  to  almost  everybody's 
advice,  I  had  my  men  plough  and  plant  July  3rd  and  4th  one 
year,  and  we  had  a  bountiful  yield;  the  corn  was  not  quite  hard 
enough  but  we  had  hogs  to  feed  it  to,  and  that  was  fine  for 
them,  and  it  would  keep.  Ninety  day  corn  is  a  regular  offering 
from  the  seed  men  now.  I  enjoyed  the  work  in  the  bottom,  on 
that  field.  I  dragged  and  harrowed  it  well,  the  men  plowed 
and  planted;  the  sky  was  so  blue,  the  birds  so  gay,  especially 


A  LOVE  STORY  25 

the  black  birds  and  thrushes.  It  was  a  happy  festival  though 
I  was  all  alone  one  morning  except  for  sky  and  sun  and  clouds 
and  trees  and  horses  and  birds.  Who  can  yet  tell  all  the  story 
of  Mondamin?  Not  I.  I  see  the  miracle  of  life  and  growth 
each  year  in  the  corn  fields,  and  I  marvel  and  wish  I  knew  it 
all.  It  makes  me  feel  how  much  I  have  to  learn  and  how  little 
I  know.  I  am  glad  the  boys  everywhere  in  the  land  are  delving 
hard  to  find  the  secrets  of  the  corn,  and  someday  there  may 
come  one  who,  like  Hiawatha,  will  in  an  uplift  of  heart  and 
brain  tell  us  many  more  of  the  wonders  of  the  Maize  or  Indian 
corn,  of  this  wondrous  Epic  of  America  and  of  our  fields. 


c 
o 


A  LOVE  STORY  27 


A  CORN  SONG. 

A  SONO   OF  PEACE. 


Hist,  hist,  what  is't  I'm  hearing 
From  far  and  near  all  through  the  land; 
'Tis  a  drumming,  and  a  drumming,  and  a  drumming, 
I  hear  it  in  the  morning,  I  hear  it  at  the  noon, 
I  hear  it  in  the  tender  even  tide, 
And  I  hear  the  noise  of  wagons, 
And  I  hear  the  tramp  of  men 
As  the  drumming,  drumming,  drumming  greets 
my  ears. 

Is  it  war  has  fallen  upon  us 

That  shall  mow  our  children  down, 

That  shall  break  the  hearts  of  Mothers,  wivesr^ 

and  maids? 

Shall  we  hear  the  crack  of  rifles, 
Shall  we  hear  the  boom  of  guns, 
Shall  we  wring  our  hands  and  mourn  our 

loved  ones  dead? 
Shall  we  hear  the  shrieks  of  men 
And  their  moanings  and  their  groanings, 
With  the  scream  and  horrid  whistle  of  the 

shells? 

No,  thank  God,  'tis  not  of  carnage 

That  the  gentle  drumming  tells; 

'Tis  an  army  that  is  peaceful 

And  it  marches  through  our  fields, 

'Tis  the  drumming  of  the  corn  ears  in  the  land, 

As  they  fall  in  beds  of  wagons, 

Plucked  by  busy  hands  of  men, 

'Tis  a  drumming  that  is  peaceful, 

'Tis  a  drumming  that  is  good, 

And  tis  peace  and  joy  and  plenty 

For  man  and  all  his  brood. 


28  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

The  horses  sleek  and  happy 
Draw  the  wagons  to  and  fro, 
For  the  drumming  of  the  corn  ears 
Is  delight  to  them  also, 
They  forget  the  toil  and  swelter 
Of  the  days  they  drew  the  plough, 
And  they  seem  to  feel  the  pleasure 
Of  the  men  they  labor  for. 
And  the  drumming,  drumming,  drumming 
brings  to  man  and  beast,  both,  good. 

On  the  summits  of  the  mountains 

In  those  Holy  Heights  of  God 

Men  shall  gather,  yes,  shall  gather 

And  receive  the  Holy  Word; 

"Beat  your  swords  all  into  plough  shares, 

And  your  spears  to  pruning  hooks," 

For  the  day  the  Lord  has  spoken 

Unto  man  is  here  and  good. 

And  the  drumming  of  the  corn  ears 

Is  the  token  far  and  near 

That  the  day  the  Lord  has  spoken  now  is  here. 

Oh,  war  no  more  shall  rend  us, 

For  we've  learned  of  Brotherhood; 

We  know  we  have  one  Father 

And  all  his  works  are  good. 

We  see  him  in  the  forest, 

We  see  him  in  the  land, 

We  lay  hold  of  all  his  secrets 

And  the  beauty  of  his  mind, 

Our  Harvests  speak  His  goodness, 

Our  All,  is  in  His  hands, 

And  the  drumming  of  the  corn  ears 

Is  his  Reveille  to  man. 


A  LOVE  STORY  29 

PEACOCKS. 

The  Peacocks  are  older  than  man.  Juno,  the  queen  of 
Heaven,  had  them  always  at  her  side  to  feast  her  mind  and 
eyes  on  their  beauty,  and  to  watch  Jove  with  their  hundred 
eyes  and  gave  her  warning  of  a  foe.  When  the  Queen  of 
Sheba  came  to  visit  Solomon;  she  brought  him  gifts  of  pea- 
cocks. Cleopatra's  slaves  stirred  the  air  about  her  with  gor- 
geous peacock  feather  fans.  The  Peacocks  saw  the  building 
of  the  Pyramids,  and  of  the  great  Wall  of  China.  They  woke 
the  echoes  of  the  great  Temples  of  Bood  and  Brahm  in  India 
and  Japan.  The  Taj  Mahal  made  answer  to  their  cries; 
Mohamed  heard  their  warnings;  the  Persian  Satraps  cultured 
them.  They  graced  the  feasts  of  the  Roman  and  Anglo  Saxon 
Kings  decked  with  their  gorgeous  feathers.  They  have  ranged 
the  earth  in  honor  and  exaltation  since  earliest  times,  and  may 
be  found  in  all  but  the  very  cold  regions  of  the  world.  '  'Krishna 
Mulvaney"  killed  '  'Peacockses"  in -the  Indian  jungles  at  the 
peril  of  his  life  not  long  ago,  for  the  Natives  consider  them  a 
sacred  bird  yet.  The  Peacock  was  used  as  a  symbol  of  the 
resurrection  by  the  early  Christians.  A  peacock  carved  on  mar- 
ble was  often  seen  upon  their  tombs  in  Roman  cemeteries.  It 
was  often  venerated  with  the  blessed  Virgin  by  Chivalrous 
Christian  knights  who  made  vows  to  them. 

I  have  a  number  of  these  wonderful  birds  of  time  upon  my 
farm.  They  are  as  good  watchmen,  as  when  Juno  used  them 
to  watch  old  Jove  and  the  other  Gods  and  Godesses.  No  one 
can  come  upon  my  place  without  the  Peacocks  giving  warning, 
and  my  neighbors  far  away  on  other  farms  can  hear  them  too. 
When  the  dogs  bark,  the  roosters  yell,  the  guineas  screech,  the 
turkies  gobble  and  the  peacocks  scream  their  loud  alarum,  there 
is  a  noise  that  shocks  intruders  and  it  awakens  the  farm  folks 
far  and  near. 

I  do  not  need  to  buy  jewels,  for  my  peacocks  bring  me  the 
living  hues,  the  color  of  them  all  save  two.  The  ruby,  saphire, 
topaz,  amethyst,  emerald,  moonstone,  turquoise,  jade,  garnet, 
tourmaline,  agate,  jacynth,  and  all  the  precious  stones  glitter 
and  shimmer  and  shift  and  shine  in  the  gorgeous  plumage  of 
my  birds.  I  only  miss  the  sparkle  of  the  diamond  and  the 


30  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

soft  luster  of  the  Pearl.  The  ensemble  of  this  marvelous  bird 
of  birds  is  unsurpassed.  Their  manners  are  lordly  and  the 
dainty  crowns  they  wear  upon  their  heads  proclaim  their  high 
estate.  One  never  tires  of  gazing  at  the  rich  plumage,  the 
gorgeous  hues  on  back,  neck,  tail,  wing  and  breast  and  head. 
We  look  again  at  Argus  with  his  hundred  eyes.  Their  legs  are 
clothed  in  dainty  fawn;  the  feet  and  lower  part  of  the  legs  is 
dark  and  clean  and  handsome.  The  feet  of  the  Peacocks  are 
not  ugly  as  some  say,  nor  do  they  drop  their  feathers  when  they 
look  at  them;  they  are  as  fine  and  tidy  as  the  patent  leathers 
of  a  gentleman. 

To  see  a  Peacock  strut  is  a  sight  worth  going  a  days  journey 
to  enjoy.  The  Peacock  room  Whistler  painted  is  fine  no  doubt, 
but  the  living  subject,  not  in  dull  paints  but  glittering  and  shin- 
ing like  a  great  jewel,  cannot  be  reproduced  by  any  painter's 
art.  I'd  rather  own  one  Peacock  than  twenty  painted  rooms, 
or  representations  of  one.  The  Peacock  furls  and  unfurls  his 
tail  sometimes  five  and  six  feet  in  diameter;  he  flirts  it  like  a 
Coquet's  fan;  he  shakes  it  till  every  feather  is  in  motion  and 
in  a  glitter,  he  spreads  its  glory  in  full  measure,  and  bows  his 
neck  and  turns  his  head  in  just  pride  from  side  to  side  and 
downward  to  look  upon  himself;  and  then  he  dances;  he  stiffens 
all  his  quills  and  plays  the  music  for  the  dance  himself.  The 
hens  walk  slowly  to  and  fro  before  him  and  around  him,  but 
always  so  he  can  see  them  as  he  struts.  Now  and  then  he  raises 
his  head,  bows  his  neck  and  with  a  wild  cry,  challenges  the 
world  to  show  his  match.  Peacocks  strut  before  their  tails  are 
fully  grown,  and  before  the  mating  season,  and  after;  they  do 
not  make  a  special  strut  for  that.  Their  parading  is  as  much  a 
part  of  them  as  their  feathers;  they  seem  to  know  they  are  of 
high  estate.  The  females  lay  from  four  to  seven  eggs  in  June; 
they  hide  their  nest,  as  a  rule,  though  now  and  then  they  con- 
descend to  make  nests  in  the  secret  places  of  the  yards;  they 
are  shy  breeders  and  lay  and  set  but  once  each  season.  The 
young  ones  look  like  little  turkeys  at  first,  and  the  mother  keeps 
them  out  of  sight  for  a  while,  and  they  keep  well  under  her 
body,  always,  and  take  to  the  trees  with  her  at  night.  Not 
many  are  raised,  and  it's  "Hands  off"  with  them,  they  manage 
their  own  affairs. 


A  LOVE  STORY  31 

I  bought  a  pair  of  Peacocks  once  and  kept  them  in  a  large 
wire  cage  in  town  to  see  them  strut.  They  flourished  well  in 
confinement  and  gave  others,  as  well  as  myself,  great  pleasure 
to  watch  them.  The  male  had  much  to  do  for  there  were  so 
many  noises  to  make  protest  to.  The  men  and  boys  on  the 
street  he  often  startled  by  his  sudden  and  terrific  shriek,  and 
they  would  laugh  and  say  he  screamed  "Carrie  Nation  and 
Prohibition"  and  other  modern  things,  and  they  would  mock 
him  and  set  him  off  again.  He  made  much  fun,  and  preached 
good  sermons  too.  On  my  farm  we  gentle  our  Peacocks  and 
they  would  eat  out  of  my  hand  if  it  were  not  for  the  cats  and 
dogs  that  want  to  share  their  feeding;  the  Peacocks  share  with 
none  of  these  common  folks.  Sometimes  they  strut  to  me.  A 
young  one  with  a  half  grown  tail  one  day  paraded  to  me  as  I 
sat  on  my  door  step.  "Red  Budder",  a  young  dog,  thought 
he'd  love  me  a  little  too  and  so  he  started  to  come  to  my  side; 
but  the  Peacock  ran  at  him  and  threatened  him,  and  "Red 
Budder"  ran  behind  the  sawdust  shed  and  peeked  around  the 
corner  at  me  and  to  see  if  the  Peacock  was  still  there. 

There  are  but  two  species  of  peacocks,  the  Javanese,  and 
the  pavo  crystalus,  which  is  distributed  over  the  world,  and 
which  is  the  kind  that  is  famous  and  to  which  mine  belong. 
Not  only  was  the  peacock  Juno's  bird;  but  it  was  claimed  by 
Pan,  when  the  Greeks  rated  that  God  with  Zeus,  and  Apollo. 
The  music  the  Peacock  makes  with  his  quills  when  strutting, 
is  called  the  "Melody  of  Pan".  He  was  so  fine  all  the  Gods 
wanted  to  claim  him,  but  he  was  Juno's  bird.  Pagans  and 
Christians  alike  paid  homage  and  veneration  to  peacocks  in  the 
long,  long  ago. 

It  is  said  Cleopatra  once  dazzled  the  natives  and  Marc 
Anthony,  at  a  great  festival,  by  being  borne  in  state  amid  a 
flock  of  a  thousand  gorgeous  peacocks,  each  one  of  which  wore 
a  tiny  golden  bell  which  tinkled  as  her  slaves  kept  them  in  or- 
der about  her  golden  litter  in  magnificent  splendor. 

I  do  not  find  the  Peacock  and  ill  omened  bird,  in  spite  of 
what  some  say.  He  is  a  thing  of  joy  and  beauty,  and  loves  to 
strut  besides  the  tulip  beds,  as  gorgeous  as  they  are,  and  his 
pride  becomes  him  and  his  mate,  who  sometimes  struts  and 
spreads  her  wirey  tail.  His  watchful  qualities  become  him  too. 


32  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

They  sometimes  get  upon  a  roof  of  the  house  and  peek  into  my 
windows;  so  he  is  just  like  his  mates  in  Juno's  day.  I  delight 
to  have  him  range  my  gardens  and  my  fields  and  forests— a 
great  live  jewel  of  a  bird,  in  glorious  beauty  from  God's  hand, 
and  a  symbol  of  the  hope  of  Immortality. 


A  LOVE  STORY  33 

HOW  OLD  ARE  YOU. 

/  am  as  old  as  the  oldest  man,  for  I  knoiv  as  much  as  he;  I 
am  as  young  as  the  babe  neiv  born,  for  I  know  just  as  little  as 
it  does. 

How  old  are  you?  is  the  question  that  is  asked  of  everybody. 
Now  I  do  not  know  how  old  I  am,  nor  how  old  anybody  is,  so  I 
might  as  well  confess  it. 

David,  in  the  139th  Psalm  said  God  knew  him;  he  says;— 
41  My  substance  was  not  hid  from  thee  when  I  was  made  in  secret 
and  curiously  wrough  in  the  lowest  parts  of  the  earth.  Thine 
eyes  did  see  my  substance  yet  being  imperfect;  and  in  thy  Book 
all  my  members  were  written,  which  in  continuance  were  fash- 
ioned, when  as  yet  there  was  none  of  them."  David  knew  when 
he  began— in  The  Beginning—;  and  we  all  of  us  began  just 
where  David  did,  and  are  just  as  old  as  David  is,  and  we  are 
all  of  the  same  age,  just  as  old,  just  as  young.  Hence,  I  will 
not  tell  you  how  old  I  am  nor  how  old  you  are.  You  must  work 
out  the  problem  for  yourself,  but  I  know  I  am  as  old  as  the  old- 
est man,  and  as  young  as  the  babe  new  born  for  I  know  as 
much  as  the  one  and  as  little  as  the  other.  When  the  rocks 
reared  their  rugged  heads  above  the  great  deep,  and  the  ele- 
ments beat  upon  them,  and  the  sun  triturated  them,  the  soil 
was  formed  and  the  plants  came,  and  after  the  plants  came  the 
animals,  and  after  the  animals  man ;  and  David  and  you  and  I 
and  all  of  us  began  with  our  first  ancestors  then  and  there,  so 
we  are  very,  very  old;  we  have  already  lived  Eons. 

Mr.  Darwin  claimed  to  be  the  first  teacher  of  Evolution, 
and  he  denied  God.  I  do  not  think  so.  David  was  the  first  who 
taught  the  doctrine  and  he  acknowledged  God.  Emerson  wrote 
ten  years  before  Darwin  on  Evolution,  as  follows:— 

"A  Countless  Chain  of  endless  rings,  the  next  unto  the 
farthest  brings,  and  striving  to  be  man,  the  worm  mounts 
through  all  the  spires  of  form";  and,  "The  poor  grass  shall  plot 
and  plan  what  it  will  do  when  it  is  man". 

Emerson,  like  David,  declared  God.  Darwin  elaborated  the 
theory  of  Evolution;  David  and  Emerson  taught  it  first.  The 
theory  of  evolution  has  done  much  to  take  the  educated  classes 


34  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

away  from  the  idea  of  God.  Since  the  Evolutionists  have 
looked  in  vain  for  the  "Missing  Link"  they  have  searched  all 
the  fossil  beds  of  the  earth;— and  since  they  have  such  fond 
faith  in  that,  it  seems  to  me  they  might  have  a  little  faith  in 
a  power  which  made  men  and  Evolution.  The  doctrine  of 
Evolution  has  never  troubled  me.  Like  Paul,  I  cannot  find 
the  mystery  hid  in  the  smallest  seed,  and  since  "the  wind 
bloweth  where  it  listeth  and  no  man  knoweth  whence  it 
cometh  or  whither  it  goeth, "  and  I  cannot  for  the  life  of  me 
tell  how  old  I  am,  or  you  are,  nor  just  how  I  come  to  be— or  how 
anything  is,  I  go  back  to  David  who  taught  first  of  Evolution 
and  of  God,  and  who  knows  more  then  all  the  men  educated  in 
our  great  Institutions,  Munsterburg,  James,  Sidis,  and  all  the 
rest  included.  If  we  can't  define  the  Fourth  Dimension,  we 
can  say  as  Franklin  did  about  Electricity,  It  is.  I  follow  Emer- 
son who  said:  — 

"The  Hand  that  rounded  Peter's  dome 
And  groined  the  aisles  of  Ancient  Rome, 
Wroughlin  a  sad  sincerety, 
Himself  from  God  he  could  not  free. 

"These  Temples  grew  as  grows  the  grass; 

Art  might  obey  but  not  surpass; 

The  Passive  Master  lent  his  hand 

To  the    Vast  Soul  that  "o'er  him  planned." 

So  I  ask  again — "How  old  are  you"?  And  leave  you  to 
answer  the  question  your  own  way." 

In  his  work  on  the  senile  heart  Dr.  Balfour,  says  the  Medi- 
cal Times  of  New  York  1895,  tells  us  that  there  are  two  parts 
of  the  human  organism  which,  wisely  used,  escape  senile  fail- 
ure. These  two  are  the  heart  and  the  brain.  The  normal  brain, 
he  affirms,  remains  vigorous  to  the  last  because  it's  nutrition 
is  specially  provided  for.  The  internal  carotids  which  supply 
the  capillary  areas  of  the  brain,  those  large  vessels  continue  to 
retain  their  pristine  elasticity,  so  that  the  blood  pressure  re- 
mains normally  higher  than  within  tne  capillaries  of  any  other 
organs  of  the  body.  The  cerebral  blood  paths  being  thus  kept 
open,  the  brain  tissue  is  kept  better  nourished  than  the  other 
tissues  of  the  body,  and  similarly  of  the  heart".  Who  can  ex- 


A  LOVE  STORY  35 

\ 

plain  it?  The  mind,  the  spirit  and  the  heart,  the  brain,  the 
body  in  toto?  Is  it  not  here  indicated  that,  as  Paul  said,  the 
body  is  the  living  Temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost?  Paul  Du  Bois  in- 
cidentally teaches  that  the  Psychic  rises  above  the  mere  Phy- 
siologic in  his  "Psychic  Treatment  of  Nervous  Diseases"  also 
Dr.  Alfred  Schofield  teaches  the  same,  indeed  he  goes  much 
farther.  High  thinking  conserves  the  body,  as  the  body  in 
turn  conserves  the  brain  and  heart,  the  super-man  in  fact. 
\Vhat  a  magnificent  thought!  And  the  heart,  nourished  with 
affection  and  not  abused  by  evil  thinking  and  living,  is  the 
greatest  nourisher  of  the  brain!  Evolution  can  not  explain 
that!  I  cannot  find  words,  nor  do  I  know  enough  to  express 
myself;  but  I  feel  like  the  devout  Catholic,  when  before  the 
altar  he  bends  the  knee  and  crosses  himself  in  adoration. 

Simeon  and  Anna,  a  man  and  woman  old  in  years,  minis- 
tered in  the  Temple  when  Joseph  and  Mary  brought  Jesus  there 
for  acceptance.  The  aged  man  and  woman,  we  are  told,  were 
filled  with  the  "Holy  Ghost,"  and  blessed  the  child  and  his  par- 
ents, and  prophesied  over  them.  They  were  at  the  time  of  life 
when  we  lay  our  old  men  and  women  to  one  side  and  consider 
making  an  end  of  them.  But  these  two  were  in  full  vigor  and 
serving  in  the  highest  place.  I  often  wonder  if  the  reason  why 
so  many  of  our  old  people  fail  is  because  they  are  not  fit  for  the 
"indwelling  of  the  spirit. "  How  much  we  all  need  the  old  men 
and  women  who  are  Holy,  filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost.  The 
brain  and  the  heart  are  so  thoroughly  provided  with  power  for 
the  highest  tasks  in  age,  we  can  safely  reason  that  in  the  na- 
ture of  a  man  the  body  must  be  obedient  to  nature's  laws,  that 
the  brain  may  rise  to  its  best  in  age.  This  is  not  chance,  this 
is  not  Evolution  this  is  not  science,  it  is  something  higher  than 
either;  and  man  needs  God  and  the  Hope  of  immortal  life  which 
grow  out  of  this  faith.  All  our  forces  of  body  and  mind  con- 
verge to  that  end  and  the  Providence  that  shapes  us  is  appar- 
ent. 

Tennyson  was  eighty-four  years  old;  the  world  had  given 
him  everything,  but  he  said  "I  want  to  know  more  about  God". 

Humbolt  finished  the  Cosmos  at  ninety  years.  Michael 
Eugene  Chevreul,  a  French  Scientist,  made  original  discoveries 


36  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

in  light  at  ninety  years  or  more,  he  passed  from  the  body  when 
103  years  of  age. 

Goethe  finished  "Faust"  at  eighty- four.  John  Quincy 
Adams  entered  Congress  when  full  of  years  and  honors.  Neal 
Dow  was  ninety-three  years  old  when  he  took  his  daughter's 
hand,  called  he  "Mother",  said  "Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep", 
and  shut  his  eyes  forever.  How  old  were  they  ?  Oh  very  old  and 
very,  very  young;  like  the  Holy  Angels,  and  also  like  little 
children. 

How  many  shipwrecks  we  should  escape  if  our  old  men  and 
women  were  filled  with  God's  spirit.  It  is  the  nature  of  things 
that  the  heart  and  brain  do  not  decay  if  we  are  obedient  to  the 
best  we  can  conceive  of  God,  so  they  should  serve  too  like  Simeon 
and  Anna  in  the  temple. 

To  say  forgetfulness  is  a  sign  of  failure  of  power  in  age,  is 
nothing.  At  twenty  years  how  much  have  we  got  on  hand  to 
remember?  At  thirty,— forty  and  fifty  years  and  sixty  and 
seventy— my!  how  much  has  piled  upon  us,  and  we  have  to 
skirmish  around  among  our  memories  and  refresh  them  before 
we  get  what  we  are  after.  Courts  allow  us  to  '  'refresh  our 
memories".  We  have  not  forgotten;  we  only  have  to  hunt 
things  up  from  among  the  infinitude  of  things  stacked  and 
piled  on  memories'  shelves. 

There  is  a  promise  of  long  life  to  those  who  are  obedient  to 
God's  laws,  and  the  Psalmist  voices  it— "The  Righteous  shall 
still  bring  rich  fruit  in  old  age".  Julia  Ward  Howe,  Susan  B. 
Anthony,  Clara  Barton  are  samples.  The  special  arrangement 
for  the  nourishment  of  brain  and  heart  in  the  human  being,  is 
in  harmony  with  this  declaration;  and  the  promise  that  long 
life  is  desirable  is  found  in  these  words  "With  long  life  will  I 
satisfy  him"  (the  righteous).  The  desire  for  life  seems  inherent 
in  us.  Everybody  ought  to  live  to  see  the  work  he  plans  fin- 
ished; to  die  before  this  time  is  what  makes  death  so  great  a 
sorrow.  I  know  men  and  women  for  whom  death  has  no  ter- 
rors because  they  say  "My  work  is  done".  "Age  is  oppor- 
tunity no  less  than 'youth  itself",  says  Longfellow,  "and  as  the 
evening  twilight  fades  away  the  sky  is  filled  with  stars  not  seen 
by  day".  In  "Morituri  Salutamis"  he  gives  a  list  of  men  called 


A  LOVE  STORY  37 

old   who  outran  men  in  their  prime  in  intellectual  attainments. 
Conserve  thy  forces  every  one, 
It  lifts  thee  to  the  Heights, 
And  thou  shalt  God-like  be, 
And  full  of  power  to  do,  and  bless, 
And  with  long  life  be  satisfied. 

It  does  not  not  signify  how  old  we  are. 


38  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

THE  GOLDEN  WEDDING. 

1833-1883. 

It  is  the  day  of  days  in  all  the  years 

That  comes  but  to  the  favored  happy  pair, 

Who  cross  life's  limit  of  three  score  and  ten, 

In  marriage  ties  accepted  in  their  youth; 

The  type  of  truest  marriage  and  its  best. 

Our  Lord  has  set  through  all  the  world  He  made 

The  dual  perfectness  of  two  in  one, 

And  one  in  two,  that  life  might  be,  and  bless. 

One  God,  one  wife,  one  husband — tangles  run 

Through  all  the  warp  and  woof  of  life  if  this  is  not. 

Oh  happy  pair,  who  sit  to-day  in  state" 

With  silver  crowns,  that  glorify  the  head  — 

Not  weight  it  down  with  fear,  or  care,  or  fret — 

Life  has  poured  out  its  fullness  at  thy  feet. 

Down  the  dim  avenues  of  time  ye  look, 

And  see  the  past,  with  all  its  joys  and  griefs, 

And  fears,  wave  like  a  misty  curtain  pale 

That  now,  seems  woven  full  of  golden  threads, 

That  catch  the  blessed  glow  and  shine  of  peace. 

And  glint  and  glitter  in  this  golden  day, 

Youth's  toil  and  fret,  its  fierce  impatience  passed 

The  fears  and  hopes  of  later  years  fulfilled, 

Now  cometh  age,  with  wisdom  and  with  peace 

That  reads  and  understands  life's  lessons  clear. 

What  once  did  seem  a  tangled  web  of  care, 

Is  now  a  "Cloth  of  Gold"  glittering  and  fair, 

Love,  faith  and  hope  are  seated  now  serene 

Within  your  souls:  and  all  to  thee  is  well. 

Around  you  come  to  greet  the  day  your  children, 

And  your  children's  children;  men  and  women, 

Youths  and  maidens,  and  the  little  ones, 

All  with  the  offering  of  affection  laden, 

To  grace  and  joy  the  day,  and  bless  the  happy 

Grandsire,  and  Grandame,  whose  Golden  Day  it  is. 

Some  are  not  here,  but  wait  in  the  beyond — 

Their  memories  to-day  be  sweet,  not  sad;  — 


A  LOVE  STORY  39 

Perhaps  unseen  they  pour  sweet  harmonies 

Along  the  trembling  currents  of  your  souls. 

Old  friends  and  neighbors  come  and  press 

Your  hand  in  theirs,  rejoicing  in  your  joy, 

As  erst  they  joyed  or  sorrowed  with  you  when 

Life  was  all  forward,  and  not  backward  looking; 

The  silver  of  the  years  has  gently  fallen 

On  them  as  upon  you:  the  foot  prints  of 

The  days  are  seen  on  brow,  and  cheek,  and  chin; 

The  eye's  bright  light  has  dimmed;  the  ear  is  dull; 

The  strong,  staunch  muscles  that  in  labor  bent 

Are  shrunken;  and  the  active  tread  is  slow; 

But  the  old  hearts  are  golden  with  their  memories, 

And  the  brain  is  rich  in  Wisdom's  ripened  stores; 

Life's  crucible  has  tried  and  tested  worth, 

And  burned  away  the  dross. 

Kindred  and  friends,  and  neighbors  old  and  new 

Bring  their  best  wishes  to  the  honored  pair, 

This  day  a  full  half  century  wed,  and  who, 

In  all  their  days  have  travelled  side  by  side 

In  fair  and  stormy  weather,  faithful,  fond  and  true; 

And  standing  now  as  they  who  gaze  upon  the  closing 

Of  a  lovely  day,  when  all  the  scene  about, 

Is  bathed  in  radiance  of  the  setting  sun; 

And  they  who  watch  and  wait  are  lifted  up 

In  soul,  and  shine  in  beauty, 

Knowing  that  when  their  day  orb  sets  and  pales 

There  cometh  greater  joy,  in  full  glory, 

Of  the  Eternal  Morning. 


A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


BEGINNINGS. 

On  one  side  of  my  house  were  red-headed,  high  spirited 
religious  Scotch  Irish  Ancestors,  full  of  energy  and  high  no- 
tions, of  good  stock  and  well  to  do.  On  the  other,  hard  work- 
ing men  and  women  of  all  sorts,  housekeepers  of  good  German 
breed,  teachers,  mechanics  and  general  business  men  and 
women  of  good  character,  high  spirited  and  religious,  the  most 
of  them.  I  have  never  had  time  to  stop  doing  to  indulge  some 
dear  ambitions  of  mine.  There  is  so  much  to  be  done  'and  no 
one  need  be  idle  a  moment. 

A  few  episodes  of  my  doings  are  here  recorded,  but  it  would 
take  many  books  to  tell  all.  What  I  had,  I  gave  to  my  day  and 
to  the  people  I  knew  and  to  the  children  I  taught,  and  I  feel 
satisfied  that  God  will  answer  my  constant  prayer,  "Bless  the 
works  of  my  heart  and  hands  and  head".  I  know  the  meaning 
of  the  old  saying  '  'Paul  plants,  Apollos  waters,  but  God  giveth 
the  increase"— to  Him  I  leave  it  all.  I  remember  that  "With 
God  a  thousand  years  is  as  a  day"— I  do  the  best  I  can,  my  part 
of  the  thousand  years  work  and  can  die  content,  knowing  the 
Lord  needs  it  and  will  count  it.  My  joy  in  it,  I  have  had  as  I 
went  along.  This  is  a  grand  world— all  that  we  need  is  for 
men  and  women  to  be  good  and  the  Millenium  will  be  on  hand 
shortly. 


MY  REVOLUTIONARY  GREAT  GRANDMOTHER 
HENRIETTA  MARIA  COLTS  FISHBURN. 


A  LOVE  STORY  41 


THE  CONSOLATION  OF  THE  GRASS, 

We  seed  our  fields  with  grass,  and  what  richness  and  variety 
we  do  find  here— Annual  Grasses,  Bienial  Grasses,  Perenial 
Grasses,  food  for  beast,  food  for  man,  grasses  for  grazing, 
grasses  for  permanent  meadows,  for  the  hay  fields,  for  the  hot- 
dry  places  and  for  the  wet  low  places,  for  the  hillside, 
for  the  valleys,  wild  and  tame  grasses,  scented  grasses, 
plumy  headed  grasses,  and  ornamental  grasses  for  our  lawns 
and  parks  -and  fence  corners.  I  often  wish  I  had  a  life  to  live 
that  I  could  devote  to  a  study  of  the  grasses.  Some  grasses 
grow  like  the  kindly  weeds,  only  after  the  foot  of  man  has  trod 
the  earth  long  time;  the  tame  grasses,  as  we  call  them,  ulti- 
mately root  out  the  wild  grasses.  As  the  heavenly  virtues 
weed  out  and  crowd  out  the  wild  and  unlawful  traits  in  the 
heart  of  man,  so  the  tame  grasses  crowd  out  the  wild  kinds 

I  once,  on  a  holy  Sabbath  morning,  went  to  hold  a  Temper- 
ance meeting  in  a  Country  Church.  My  little  team  was  all  right 
and  took  me  nicely,  but  I  thought  I  did  not  feel  real  well  that 
morning,  and  I  wanted  someone  to  go  with  me,  but  I  had  to  go 
alone,  and  I  felt  hurt  somehow  and  downcast.  I  knew  that 
where  I  was  going  the  sentiment  was  unfriendly  and  I  should 
have  but  few  to  give  the  message  to.  I  was  in  a  desolate  mood 
and  I  shed  a  few  tears;  the  fight  in  me  seemed  to  have  evapor- 
ated. I  had  to  trail  along  a  creek  bottom  road  and  it  had  been 
travelled  a  long  time  although  it  was  an  unworked  road  and 
bushy;  but  men  and  cattle  together  had  tramped  it  for  years. 
As  I  gazed  moodily  at  the  ground,  I  saw  something  that  cheered 
me  mightily  and  gave  me  grace  and  courage.  I  saw  that  the 
tame  grasses  had  taken  the  wild  grasses!  Ah,  I  had  a  message 
there  from  God;  it  seemed  to  cheer  me,  and  it  said  "always  it 
is  so,  the  wild  and  the  evil  must  perish  before  the  good  and 
the  true;  as  the  feet  of  men  and  cattle  have  tramped  this  little 
valley  road,  the  wild  things  and  grasses  have  yielded  to  the 
law  and  the  sweeter,  better,  permanent  grasses  have  come. 
Just  so  they  who  take  the  wild  hearts  and  minds  of  men  and 
women  and  trample  them  with  the  good  and  true,  tramp  the 
evil  out,  it  will,  it  must  yield  to  the  Good— that  Ultimate  of  the 


42  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER] 

Universe  and  Creation".  "I  was  uplift".  I  told  the  little  com- 
pany I  met  the  story  of  my  drive  and  of  the  grasses,  and  I  saw 
reflected  in  each  face  a  recognition  of  the  truth  that  had  come 
to  me.  It  was  of  God;  I  gave  it  to  them  as  a  sacrament  and  He 
in  whom  we  live  and  move  and  have  our  being,  blessed  it.  So 
our  grasses  teach  us  the  grand  things  of  Life  and  of  God, 
and  Consolation. 


A  LOVE  STORY  43 


THE  SPARROW. 

Light  as  the  brown  leaves  fluttering  in  the  air 
The  sparrow  flits  in  fearless  grace  along 
The  city's  crowded  streets,  no  carking  care 
Clouds  the  brief  space  of  what  man  calls  his  life- 
Careless  and  free,  he  leaves  the  pleasant  way 
Of  verdant  fields;  and  bosky  scented  shades, 
And  in  the  smoke  and  heat  he  seems  to  say,, 
"I  am  man's  faithful,  cheerful  little  friend". 

Upon  the  fountain's  mossy  mantled  brim, 
He  sits  and  sips,  and  laves  his  mottled  dress, 
And  lifts  his  voice  in  pure  delight  to  Him 
Who  all  unheeded  will  not  let  him  fall. 

When  chill  cold  winter's  winds  and  bitter  snow, 
Shall  stint  his  store  of  food,  and  chill  his  breast, 
The  children  from  the  doors  and  windows  throw, 
A  generous  feast  with  childish  happiness. 

Perchance  some  weary  toiler  as  he  treads 
His  way  with  tired  brain  and  lagging  feet, 
May  find  his  heart  uplifted,  and  his  needs 
Bear  lighter,  when  he  hears  thee  twittering  near. 

Thrive  then,  oh,  little  friend,  as  thou  wilt 
Choose  thine  own  home,  and  rear  thy  tender  brood, 
All  the  grand  structures  which  proud  man  hath  built, 
He  lets  to  thee  forever,  as  thine  own. 


44  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

THE  WAY  OF  SORROWS. 

Sometimes  I  think  God  would  be  sorry  for  his  children  on 
this  earth.  Life  is  no  joke,  nor  a  "Rose  Garden",  as  some  one 
has  said.  Paul  calls  it  a  "battle"  and  '  minds"  us  to  "Acquit 
ourselves  as  good  Soldiers".  "Life  is  real,  life  is  earnest"  a 
sweet  poet  of  our  own  tells  us;  Oh  how  brave  and  determined 
we  must  be  not  to  be  overcome  by  the  sorrows  and  afflictions 
of  our  lives.  So  many  are  overcome  by  life's  heaviness  and 
grief,  and  fall  and  perish  of  them. 

Those  who  have  endured  and  looked  upward  grow  int©  a 
sweet  patience  and  resignation  it  seems  to  me  that  begins  to 
shine  in  the  countenance,  mirror  itself  in  the  figure  and  emanate 
from  the  presence,  a  power  and  sweetness,  and  a  charm  which 
is  God  like,  I  marvel  at  it.  There  are  those  who  take  their  af- 
flictions in  such  a  fashion  that  their  presence  becomes  a  cross 
and  a  grief,  and  an  injury  to  themselves  and  others.  There  is 
neither  charm  nor  beauty  in  face  or  figure,  and  we  endure  their 
presence  and  get  away  from  it  as  soon  as  possible  with  decency. 

Griefs,  crosses,  afflictions,  disappointments,  we  all  have  as 
a  heritage;  each  year  we  live  brings  more,  and  the  longer  we 
live  the  more  we  must  suffer.  It  is  hard  to  reconcile  oneself  to 
it,  the  heart  grows  numb  with  the  heavy  blows  that  fall  upon  it. 
We  can  say  together  "Oh  sorrow,  cruel  fellowship"  for  none, 
escape. 

The  long,  long  nights  drag  on.  Ah,  the  nights  when  sleep 
forsakes  us,  and- our  thoughts  run  to  and  fro  to  torment  us 
with  memories  of  what  was,  and  that  can  be  no  more  here.  In 
the  night  time  I  called  my  beloved  and  talked  with  them;  to 
them  I  confessed  my  sins;  sins  of  commission,  sins  of  omission; 
it  seemed  to  me  I  always  received  absolution  from  them  all,  and 
a  blessing  that  was  a  sacrament  to  the  spirit  and  the  body.  It 
pleased  me  in  these  long  lonely  hours  of  the  night  to  call  upon 
the  Holy  Angels  for  ministration,  and  it  came.  I  called  my 
Guardian  Angel  and  asked  for  consolation  at  her  will.  The 
deep  desire,  the  prayer,  the  humbling  of  myself  brought  com- 
fort and  blessing,  and  visions  of  a  reunion  wherein  all  we  have 
here  is  like  a  shadow  of  that  Great  Reality.  An  old  German  out 


A  LOVE  STORY  45 

of  his  sorrow  wrote  a  song  I  often  repeat: 

"Pain's  furnace  heat  within  me  quivers, 
God's  breath  upon  the  flame  doth  blow 
And  all  my  heart  within  me  shivers 
And  trembles  in  the  fiery  glow. 
And  yet  I  murmur  as  God  wills, 
And  in  his  hottest  fire  hold  still. 
I  would  not  murmur  at  the  sorrow 
Which  only  longer  lived  would  be. 
The  end  may  come  and  that  to-morrow 
When  God  has  wrought  his  will  in  me 
And  yet  I  murmur  as  God  wills 
And  in  his  hottest  fire  hold  still." 


46  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

UNFORGOTTEN. 

O  tender,  loving  friends,  whom  Death's  dark  hand 
Hath  torn  from  aching  hearts  that  grieve  and  mourn, 
Ye  come  to  us  from  out  the  Shadowland, 
To  comfort  and  to  bless  our  days  forlorn. 

In  dreams,  in  happy  dreams,  ye  come  again; 
Your  voices  mingle  with  the  Spring's  soft  breath; 
And  echoes  ring  of  all  that  might  have  been 
Had  ye  and  we  escaped  the  ban  of  Death. 

Your  presence  stirs  the  pulses  of  the  air, 
We  reach  to  feel  the  pressure  of  your  hand, 
Alas!  in  pain  and  woe,  and  in  despair, 
Is  felt  the  empty  space  at  our  demand. 

In  dainty  garments  richly  'broidered  o'er, 
The  mother  robes  again  the  little  one 
They  carried  weeping  through  the  open  door, 
Its  sweet  hands  folded,  and  its  life  all  done. 

The  incense  of  some  Summer-breathing  flowers 
Hath  vanquished  time  and  swept  the  past  away; 
The  comrade  of  our  childhood's  blessed  hours 
Had  crowned  us  with  those  blossoms  in  his  play. 

Ye  see  an  imprint  on  a  snowy  couch, 

A  feeble  form  within  the  easy  chair; 

Feel  murmured  blessings  with  the  gentle  touch 

Once  laid  a  fleeting  moment  on  your  hair. 

Loved  voices  sound  a  warning  though  afar, 
When  evil  tempts  or  passion  leads  astray; 
The  father  and  the  mother  point  the  star 
That  guides  us  upward  to  the  better  way. 

Oh!  precious  unforgotten  shall  ye  be 

Till  Earth  enfolds  us  in  her  kindly  breast; 

Then,  in  the  light  of  immortality, 

Heart  beat  to  heart,  and  face  to  face  shall  see. 


A  LOVE  STORY  47 

HYMNS  OF  ALL  NATIONS. 

"You  should  hear  him,  (the  American)  stand  up  and  sing: 
My  country  'tis  of  thee, 
Sweet  land  of  Liberty, 
Of  thee  we  sing. 

There  must  be  born  a  poet  who  shall  give  the  English  a  song 
of  their  own  Country.  A  paean  that  shall  combine  the  terrible 
slow  swing  of  the  Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic,  with  that  perfect 
quickstep,  Marching  Through  Georgia,  ivith  Brittania  Needs  No 
Bulwarks,  the  skirl  of  The  British  Grenadiers,  and  the  wail  of 
The  Dead  March.  —Kipling. 

"Now  America  is  the  Continent  of  glories,  and  of  the 
triumph  of  freedom,  and  of  the  Democracies,  and  of  the  futures 
of  Society,  and  of  all  that  is  begun."  -Walt.  Whitman. 

It  is  of  profound  interest  to  note  the  evolution  of  Man  in 
the  growth  of  what  we  call  National  Hymns.  Savages  and 
Pagan  people  have  no  National  Hymns,  nor  do  any  people  under 
the  despotic  rule  of  Kings  posess  them. 

When  Kings  and  Queens  began  to  own  allegiance  to  God, 
in  common  with  their  people,  men  began  to  have  rights,  and 
when  people  began  to  have  rights  they  began  to  sing,  and 
National  Hymns  were  born. 

England  has  "God  Save  the  King",  or  Queen.  Germany  has 
"Die  Wacht  am  Rhine".  France  the  terrible  "Marseilles". 
Austria,  Russia,  Italy,  Spain,  Holland  and  other  European  lands 
sing  the  praise  of  God  under  the  King  or  Queen.  America,  — 
free  America— sings  "America",  "The  Red,  White  and  Blue", 
"The  Star  Spangled  Banner",  "Hail  Columbia",  "The  Battle 
Hymn  of  the  Republic''  and  other  hymns  of  similar  import,  if 
of  less  value. 

The  English  laud  the  King  or  Queen  under  God;  Germany's 
hymn,  "Die  Wacht  am  Rhine",  like  the  music  of  Wag%ner,  is 
pagan.  It  has  love  and  fidelity  to  the  Father  land,  but  not  a 
word  of  God,  or  any  reference  to  Him  in  it.  "Ein  Feste  Burg— 
ist  Unser  Gott"  is  not  a  National  Hymn,  for  only  the  protest- 
ants  of  Germany  sing  it,  neither  Catholics  nor  Socialists  sing  it 
or  claim  it.  The  French  Marseilles  is  full  of  the  fury  of  an 


48  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

outraged  humanity  that  calls  not  upon  God,  but  upon  war  and 
rapine  and  murder.  In  it  we  hear  the  roll  of  the  war  drum, 
the  rattle  of  musketry,  the  boom  of  the  cannon,  the  screech  of 
shells,  the  screams  of  the  wounded  and  dying,  the  terrible  cry 
for  revenge;  the  horrors  of  the  Guillotine  and  Commune  saturate 
it.  France  has  not  yet  produced  any  other  National  Hymn, 
nor  is  she  likely  to,  for  she  denies  God. 

American  Free  Masons  do  not  recognize  the  French  Masonic 
order,  for  it  denies  there  is  One  to  whom  all  peoples  should 
give  allegiance—  God. 

American  civilization  is  a  product  of  the  best  religious  cul- 
ture of  the  old  world  and  the  new;  our  people  are  homogenious. 
We  build  our  foundations  on  Trust  in  God,  our  National  Hymns 
express  it.  Our  National  Hymns  are  all  full  of  trust  in  God, 
and  our  people  all  sing  them  together. 

"Our  Father's  God  to  Thee, 

Author  of  Liberty  to  Thee  we  sing 

Long  may  our  land  be  bright 

With  Freedom's  holy  light, 

Protect  us  by  Thy  might 

Great  God  our  King." 
"The  Star  Spangled  Banner"  with  its— 

'  'Then  conquer  we  must 

For  Our  Cause  it  is  just, 

And  this  be  our  motto, 

In  God  is  our  Trust". 

"The  Red,  White  and  Blue"  or  "Columbia  the  Gem  of  the 
Ocean",  "Hail  Columbia",  that  great  Lyric  "The  Battle  Hymn 
of  the  Republic",  with  "Our  God  is  Marching  on,"  and  all  our 
Hymns  of  which  there  are  so  many,  express  the  firm  Trust  of 
our  people  in  God;  He  is  the  fundament  of  our  civilization.  In 
this  we  are  unique;  no  Nations  sing  songs  like  we  of  American 
Civilization,  which  is  founded  on  Trust  in  God  as  a  solid  founda- 
tion. * 

The  D.  A.  R.  is  a  strong  National  and  State  aggregation  of 
women  and  full  of  vim.  I  belong;  and  I  wonder  often,  why, 
instead  of  spending  so  much  time  on  the  glories  of  the  past,  we 
do  not  go  into  the  legislatures  of  every  State  and  into  the 
territories  and  ask  lawrs  making  it  obligatory  that  the  children 


A  LOVE  STORY  49 

in  all  our  schools  shall  be  required  to  memorize,  and  then  to 
sing  our  National  Hymns  regularly  each  week  till,  when  our 
people  meet  and  the  bands  strike  up  or  the  music  is  played, 
everybody  can  and  will  sing  together;— on  Fourth  of  July,  Flag 
Day,  Decoration  Day  and  many  other  National  Holidays.  That 
would  be  a  magnificent  chorus,  and  a  magnificent  work  to 
bring  it  to  pass,  and  it  would  increase  patriotism  and  homoge- 
niousness.  The  earth  and  the  sea  would  shake  with  the  volume 
of  that  sound.  We  ought  all  to  "know  by  heart"  the  words 
and  melody's  of  "America",  "The  Star  Spangled  Banner", 
"Hail  Columbia",  "Columbia  the  Gem  of  the  Ocean"  and 
"The  Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic".  On  our  National  Holidays 
the  whole  land  could  sing  together  at  once,  making  allowances 
for  the  difference  in  time.  America  is  the  Land  of  Promise  to  all 
the  Nations  of  the  earth.  A  Congressman,  much  opposed  to 
foreign  immigration,  took  a  European  trip.  On  the  way  back 
he  came  in  a  ship  laden  with  steerage  passengers,  foreigners. 
As  the  first  dim  outlines  of  America  appeared,  he  heard  all 
these  foreign  people  singing  or  trying  to  sing;  the  melody  was 
not  perfect  but  it  appeared  they  sang  in  joy  and  thankgiving  and 
with  full  hearts— "America".  Tears  filled  his  eyes,  his  heart 
rose  in  his  throat,  he  tore  up  the  bill  he  was  proposing  to  intro- 
duce against  imigration  and  threw  it  into  the  sea. 

The  Japanese,  who  remodeled  their  Constitution  on  ours, 
who  sent  their  children  to  be  taught  in  American  schools, 
whipped  Pagan  "Adam  Zad"  when  all  the  Nations  feared  to 
touch  him,  and  did  it  thoroughly,  and  sing  our  Hymns. 

In  Manilla  Bay  Admiral  Dewey  Conquered  the  Spanish 
fleet  in  short  order,  and  American  thought  was  planted  in  the 
far  ends  of  the  earth.  The  sea  was  calm  at  Manilla;  at  Santi- 
ago the  world  gathered  at  that  sea  fight,  and  a  storm  raged; 
and  Cerveras  fleet  perished,  in  calm  and  storm  they  perished; 
and  the  war  which  our  Nation  began  for  humanity's  sake,  that 
was  supported  by  a  faith  and  trust  in  God,  upholding  right 
and  justice,  conquered  and  for  humanity.  All  the  Nations  of 
the  earth  who  had  despised  us,  and  the  most  of  them  did, 
after  these  two  battles  took  America  for  a  pattern,  and  on  land 
and  see  their  armies  moved  up  to  align  with  ours,  and  we  be- 
came The  World  Power  as  well  as  the  worlds'  pattern,  in  many 


50  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

large  ways  because  behind  it  all— under  it  all— stood  that  Trust  in 
God;  as  a  people  we  sang  of  Freedom  and  Trust  in  God  to- 
gether. 

Our  money  expresses  the  same  thought,  and  we  stamp  it 
all,  gold  and  silver,  with  the  words  "In  God  We  Trust".  When- 
ever people  trust  in  God,  their  hearts  beat  with  ours  and  they 
can  sing  our  National  Hymns  with  us.  We  have  a  great  destiny, 
that  we  need  to  be  faithful  to. 

The  Jews,  through  the  ages,  persecuted  and  robbed,  have 
in  the  long,  long  years  of  their  suffering  been  given  control  of 
the  world's  wealth,  so  that  now  they  make  and  unmake  peoples. 
No  one  can  unmake  America.  It  is  the  home  of  the  Jew.  They 
say  "America  is  the  only  home  we  have".  The  wealth  of  the 
world  is  theirs  and  no  Nation  can  command  that  wealth  against 
America.  America  can  command  it  all.  In  all  their  synago- 
gues in  America  during  the  Spanish  American  War,  prayers 
were  said  for  America,  during  the  Wars'  continuance.  Every- 
where, the  world  over,  during  that  war  we  were  remembered 
by  name  by  this  old  and  holy  people  of  God.  Our  National 
Hymns  are  their  Hymns  wherever  they  are  on  earth.  Is  there 
fulfilment  of  prophesy  in  this? 

It  was  once  attempted,  not  long  ago,  to  strike  from  our 
coins  the  inscription  "In  God  we  trust",  but  our  people  rose  up 
against  it  as  one  man,  and  denounced  the  attempt,  and  made  it 
out  of  the  power  of  any  one  person  to  do  that  again.  The  new 
coins  when  struck  would  not  stack.  The  expensive  machinery 
made  to  stamp  them  was  ordered  destroyed;  the  new  coins  were 
ordered  in  and  reminted.  they  were  a  laughing  stock  to  etholo- 
gists  and  others,  because  of  absurdities  in  the  heads  upon  them. 
It  seemed  a  Providence  all  through;  and  our  Coins  still  bear  the 
stamp  "In  God  We  Trust",  it  expresses  the"  fundament  on 
which  we  built  and  build,  Trust  in  God.  It  is  an  ultimate  ab- 
solute idea;  it  reminds  us  also  that  "The  Gold  and  Silver  are 
the  Lord's"  and  that  we  should  use  it  as  His  Stewards.  When 
Jesus  was  on  earth  he  asked  to  whom  tribute  should  be  paid. 
He  asked  for  a  coin;  it  bore  the  superscription  of  Caesar,  as  all 
coins  then  and  now,  except  in  America,  bear  the  name  and  bust 
of  the  Ruler.  It  was  never  intended  any  of  our  American  coins 
should  be  know  as  the  coin  of  any  head  of  the  government,  and 


A  LOVE  STORY  51 

the  attempt  to  change  our  coins  and  remove  the  "Trust  in  God" 
from  them  failed,  and  Congress  made  a  law  at  once  forbidding 
any  change  in  our  coins  except  by  Congress  itself,  which  repre- 
sents all  our  people. 

We  need  not  fear  our  foreign  people  if  we  are  true  to  our- 
selves. Zekariah  once  reminded  the  Israelites  that  if  they 
were  faithful  to  God's  laws  that  "Ten  men  out  of  ten  Nations 
would  take  hold  of  the  skirt  of  him  who  is  a  Jew,  and  say, 
'We  will  go  with  Thee  for  we  see  that  God  is  with  Thee'  ". 
When  America  ceases  to  license  saloons  and  harlotry  and  gamb- 
ling dens  and  devices  of  evil,  she  will  strengthen  herself  through 
her  foreign  peoples  who  will  fortify  her  virtues  as  they  now  sing 
her  hymns.  We  corrupt  many  of  our  foreign  people  and  they  in 
turn  corrupt  us.  The  fault  is  with  us.  The  spirit  of  God  broods 
over  America,  because  we  have  declared  our  Trust  in  Him.  We 
are  nearer  right  than  the  other  Nations  of  the  earth,  though  we 
do  many  evil  things  and  refuse  to  right  wrongs  to  women  and 
children  and  God  punishes  us  for  that— but  we  sing  together. 
America  is  the  youngest  of  the  Nations,  but  her  flag  is  the  old- 
est. Other  Nations  have  changed  their  flags  but  ours  stands  un- 
changed from  the  beginning  except  for  the  stars  we  add  to  it 
from  time  to  time.  What  food  for  thought  is  here  in  poesy, 
romance,  philosophy,  religion  and  prophecy,  for  America.  We 
have  a  great  Country  surely,  grounded  in  the  love  of  God,  in 
the  love  of  Man,  and  in  a  supreme  trust  in  the  Creator— God. 
No  Nations  sing  together  and  of  God  as  we  do.  Our  National 
Hymns  tell  the  story,  our  people  all  sing  them  together.  In  God 
We  Trust.  Selah. 

JEWISH  WAR  PRAYER  FOR  USE  IN  ALL  TEMPLES.      DURING  THE 
SPANISH  AMERICAN  WAR  1898. 

(Taken  from  the  Chicago  Tribune  May  llth,  1898.) 

Commencing  next  Saturday  the  following  "War  Prayer" 
will  be  used  in  all  Orthodox  Jewish  temples  thoughout  the 
country  during  the  existence  of  the  war  with  Spain: 

"0,  merciful  and  gracious  King,  God  of  Gods  and  Lords  of 
Lords,  in  thy  hands  is  the  soul  of  every  living  creature  and  the 
spirit  of  every  human  being,  look  down  from  Thy  holy  dwelling 
from  Heaven,  save,  we  beseech  Thee,  thy  servants  the  Ameri- 


52  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

can  nation,  who  dwell  in  these  United  States,  who  adhere  to 
the  teachings  of  Thy  beneficent  attributes,  to  do  good  to  mor- 
tal beings,  to  show  compassion  to  those  who  are  formed  by  Thy 
hand,  and  who  risk  their  lives  as  they  do  this  day,  to  shed  their 
blood  like  water  in  this  war  which  duty  commands,  to  deliver 
the  Cuban  people,  who  sigh  and  groan  beneath  the  hand  of  the 
relentless  and  cruel  Spanish  Nation,  who  have  thirsted  for 
human  blood  from  the  days  of  old. 

"0,  Lord  of  compassion,  we  pray  Thee;  pity  and  have  mercy 
upon  our  forces  on  land  and  sea,  and  give  them  strength  and 
courage  to  stand  before  the  power  of  our  enemies  and  to  subdue 
the  pride  of  those  who  rise  against  us,  that  they,  our  hosts,  re- 
turn not  in  defeat— 0,  do  Thou  avert  that!— with  head  bent 
downward  and  faces  shamed. 

May  Thy  loving  kindness  uphold  and  support  us  with  Thy 
right  hand,  to  deliver  the  Cubans  who  are  oppressed  and  af- 
flicted by  their  persecutors,  and  to  proclaim  freedom  for  them 
in  order  that  they  also  may  enjoy  the  glow  of  enlightenment 
and  freedom  which  Thou  hast  apportioned  to  us,  sons  of  these 
United  States,  with  Thy  full,  open,  holy  extended  hand. 

We  implore  Thee,  prosper  our  ways  that  no  sickness,  mis- 
fortune, mishaps,  or  evil  accidents  may  befall  us.  Bring  our 
ships  to  desired  havens  and  lead  us  by  silent  waters.  Graci- 
ously bestow  of  Thy  knowledge,  understanding,  and  wisdom  on 
our  authorities,  councilors,  and  commanders,  that  they  may  suc- 
ceed in  their  plans  on  the  lines  of  love,  mercy  and  humanity, 
that  they  may  proceed  thereon,  as  now. 

Appoint  us  for  salvation  and  compassion  that  violence,  out- 
break, and  calamity  be  unheard  of  in  our  land,  that  perfect- 
peace  may  be  accorded  to  us  and  to  all  who  dwell  in  this 
Country,  now  forevermore,  amen." 

A  DESCRIPTION  OF  AMERICA  AND  AMERICAN  PEOPLE  COPIED  FROM 

A  SPANISH  NEWSPAPER  AND  PUBLISHED  IN  HARPER'S 

WEEKLY  IN  1898. 

A  description  of  America  and  American  people  copied  from 
a  Spanish  Newspaper,  and  published  in  Harper's  Weekly  in  1898. 

"Hybrid  people,  ephemeral  folk, 
Vile  mixture  of  the  dirty  slag, 


A  LOVE  STORY  53 

Spewed  by  the  ancient  Continent, 
Spurious  race,  without  honor  or  history". 

"Stinking  den— 

Where  all  that  is  ignoble  and  ill-begotten 

Finds  its  center  and  natural  sphere. 

Filthy,  beast-like,  fetid  nest, 

Refuge  of  loathesome  reptiles". 

It  took  a  War  to  teach  the  world  what  America  is;  and  it 
was  a  war  waged  for  humanity's  sake.  It  taught  the  world  it 
needed  to  move  up  to  and  align  with  America,  in  war  and 
peace.  It  taught  the  power  of  Freedom  and  of  Trust  in  God  to 
all  the  Nations  of  the  Earth. 


54  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

REPENTANCE,  CONFESSION,  RESTITUTION,  ABSOLUTION. 

I  once  was  talking  with  a  Paulist  father  who  was  intent  on 
gathering  men  and  women  into  the  fold  of  the  Mother  Church. 
He  sought  to  impress  me  toward  Catholicism,  but  I  urged  my 
Free  Thinking  as  an  impossible  barrier.  It  came  up  that  I  told 
him  I  believed  in  Confession;  at  this  his  countenance  brightened, 
as  that  was  a  point  to  start  from;  but  I  said  "I  understand  the 
Bible  to  say  "Confess  ye  your  sins  one  to  another".  I  said  I 
had  had  people  confess  to  me  and  if  they  repented  and  confessed 
and  tried  to  make  restitution,  I  absolved  them.  A  look  of  hor- 
ror came  on  his  face,  and  I  looked  at  him  as  I  supposed  a  Bishop 
might  look  at  a  priest— down,  not  up;  and  he  gave  me  up,  and 
I  could  see  it.  It  is  true,  if  one  wrongs  another  and  repents,  it 
is  his  duty  to  confess  to  the  one  wronged,  try  to  make  restitu- 
tion, and  ask  absolution.  If  the  one  wronged  refuses  absolu- 
tion after  repentance  and  confession  and  an  attempt  at  restitu- 
tion, the  wrong  doer  has  earned  his  absolution,  and  will  get  it 
even  if  we  refuse  him,  for  it  is  the  law  of  God  he  shall  have  it 
after  he  has  met  the  conditions.  I  hold  I  am  not  obliged  to  give 
absolution  to  one  who  knowingly  wrongs  me,  unless  he  or  she 
repents,  confesses,  and  tries  at  least  to  make  restitution.  If 
I  do  forgive  without  these  conditions  the  wrongdoer  is  liable  to 
do  me  a  second  wrong,  at  least  this  is  my  experience.  You  are 
despised.  Jesus  said  ''Father  forgive  them  for  they  know  not 
what  they  do" — but  the  wrongdoer  usually  does  know  what  he 
is  doing,  so  we  should  demand  repentance,  confession  and  resti- 
tution, or  give  no  absolution. 


A  LOVE  STORY 


55 


AROUND  THE  WORLD  FOUR  TIMES. 


In  the  year  1869  my  husband, 
Henry  B.  Kepley,  suggested  I  at- 
tend law  school,  and  I  made  appli- 
cation to  the  Hon.  Henry  Booth  of 
Chicago  and  received  a  kindly  letter 
from  that  noble  gentleman  saying 
there  was  no  objection,  I  took  the 
nine  months  course  required  and  in 
June  1870  I  received  my  Diploma  of 
Graduation  and  the  Degree  of 
Bachelor  of  Laws  from  the  Law  De- 
partment of  the  University  of  Chi- 
cago; John  C.  Buroughs,  President; 
Cyrus  Bentley,  Secretary;  Henry 
Booth,  Dean  of  the  Law  Depart- 
ment. 

I  went  with  others  of  the  class 
to  the  Hon.  Chas.  Read,  State's  At- 
torney of  Cook  County,  who  was 
qualified  to  issue  licenses  to  practice 
law,  but  he  very  politely  and  with  many  apologies  refused 
me,  saying  the  law  of  Illinois  at  that  time  did  not  permit 
women  to  enter  the  learned  professions.  Women  might  be 
cooks,  wash  women,  floor  scrubbers,  and  do  any  sort 
of  menial  labor  at  that  time,  but  they  were  barred  from  the  so- 
called  learned  professions.  What  made  my  rejection  at  that 
time  more  striking  was  the  fact  that  a  negro  man  in  the  same 
class  applied  for  and  received  his  license  to  practice  law  the 
same  day  I  was  rejected. 

The  matter  was  novel  and  new,  and  it  travelled  around  the 
whole  civilized  world,  for  it  seems  I  was  the  first  women  to  gra- 
duate from  a  law  school  in  the  world,  and  in  addition,  America 
which  boasted  to  the  rest  of  the  world  to  be  '  'the  land  of  the 
free  and  the  home  of  the  brave",  gave  no  freedom  to  her 
women;  but  she  did  give  all  her  rights  and  privileges  to  a  re- 
presentative of  a  race  declared  inferior  and  that  had  but  lately 
emerged  from  African  savagery,  and  chattleism  as  slaves.  It 


ADA  H.  KEPLEY 


56  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

did  strike  the  Old  World  as  preposterous  that  American  men 
rated  their  own  wives,  sisters,  daughters  and  mothers  as  lower 
than  negroes  and  ex-slaves. 

So  around  the  civilized  world,  and  over  America  I  travelled 
on  this  conspicuous  weakness  and  lack  of  chivalry  of  a  boasted 
free  people,  as  well  as  the  fact  that  I  was  the  first  women  gra- 
duate of  a  law  school  in  the  world. 

Mr.  Kepley  formulated  a  bill  giving  women  the  right  to  en- 
ter the  learned  professions,  which  I  copy: — 

"Be  it  enacted,  etc, —That  any  women,  whether  married  or 
unmarried,  shall  have  the  same  right  that  men  have  to  follow 
and  engage  in  any  business,  trade  or  profession;  and  any  bond 
or  obligation  executed  by  a  married  women  in  qualifying  her- 
self to  enter  upon  any  such  business,  trade  or  profession,  and 
all  contracts  made  by  a  married  women  in  due  course  of  busi- 
ness in  carrying  on  such  business,  trade  or  profession,  shall  be 
binding,  and  as  valid  as  though  she  were  sole,  and  unmarried". 

This  bill  was  introduced  into  the  Illinois  Senate  by  Capt. 
Edward  Harlan  of  Marshall,  Clark  Co.  Illinois,  who  was  then 
the  Representative  of  Effingham  County  in  the  Legislature. 
The  bill  was  greeted  kindly  by  some,  by  others  with  every  sort 
of  ridicule  and  sarcasm  and  objection.  Judge  James  B.  Brad- 
well  of  Chicago,  whose  wife,  Myra  Bradwell,  was  Editor  of  the 
Legal  News  and  who  could  not  be  admitted  to  the  bar,  nor 
practice  law,  though  she  was  the  able  head  of  a  great  law 
Journal,  came  down  from  Chicago,  and  made  a  tremendous 
fight  for  a  bill  embodying  the  same  principles;  Mr.  Reddick  of 
Ottowa,  LaSalle  Co. ,  a  wealthy  farmer  in  the  Legislature  made 
a  vigorous  fight  for  it  also;  and,  in  substance  the  bill  written  by 
Mr.  Kepley  and  presented  by  Captain  Harlan,  became  a  law, 
and  the  women  of  Illinois  were  empowered  to  enter  the  legal 
and  other  learned  professions.  I  travelled  the  world  around  on 
this  matter. 

The  Bill  became  a  law  March  22,  1872,  went  into  force  July 
1st,  1872.  I  did  not  apply  for  a  license  to  practice  law  until 
January  13th,  1881,  when  Hon.  R.  A.  D.  Wilbanks,  a  clerk  of 
the  Supreme  Court,  who  was  a  friend  of  my  husband,  made  a 
motion  before  that  body  that  I  be  admitted;  T.  Lyle  Dickey 
Chief  Justice,  P.  H.  Walker,  John  M.  Scott,  J.  Schofield,  J. 


A  LOVE  STORY  57 

M.  Craig,  Benj.  Shelden,  John  Mulkey  Justices.  My  license 
to  practice  law  was  issued  Jan.  27th,  1881,  E.  Snively,  Clerk. 
The  second  time  I  travelled  round  the  world  was  a  result  of 
a  determined  fight  I  had  made  on  printed  publications  known 
as  obscene.  Anthony  Comstock  of  New  York,  McAffey  of  Illi- 
nois, the  W.  C.  T.  U.  and  lovers  of  common  decency  far  and 
near  were  on  the  war  path.  The  Post  Office  at  Effingham  was 
a  depot  where  much  of  it  was  exposed  for  sale,  and  the  W.  C. 
T.  U.  appealed  to  the  News  Dealer  and  to  the  Postmaster  to 
stop  the  sale,  but  we  were  treated  with  contempt.  Then  I 
complained  to  the  Attorney  General  of  the  State  of  Illinois, 
Hon.  James  McCartney,  sending  him  copies  of  papers  objected 
to,  and  because  of  the  exegencies  of  the  mattter  he  rendered 
at  length,  a  decision  on  the  subject  from  Springfield,  Illinois, 
Nov.  5th,  1883.  My  brother-in-law,  Hon.  Owen  Scott,  then 
Editor  of  the  Democrat,  a  local  paper  at  Effingham,  and  a  Past 
Master  of  the  Grand  Lodge  of  Illinois  Free  Masons  published 
it,  and  he  counselled  me  to  send  it  to  the  great  Dailies  of  Chi- 
cago and  St.  Louis..  All  used  it,  and  that  decision  travelled 
over  the  United  States  and  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  I  went 
with  it.  There  was  a  tremendous  agitation  in  the  United 
States,  and  the  States  passed  stringent  laws  in  the  legislatures 
that  followed  that  decision.  Anthony  Comstock  said  that  the 
circulation  of  the  Police  Gazette  was  cut  down  one  half,  two  of 
the  papers  complained  of  perished,  that  more  convictions  had 
been  secured  for  breaking  the  law  in  regard  to  bad  pic- 
tures and  bad  publications  than  they  had  ever  had.  The  West- 
ern Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Vice  said  their  work  had  been 
"signally  blessed",  the  year  following  the  decision  of  Attorney 
General  McCartney,  in  Illinois.  The  Illinois  Legislature  passed 
a  more  stringent  bill  and  the  Effingham  W.  C.  T.  U.,  which 
complained  also  to  the  Post  Master  General,  got  rid  of  bad  pub- 
lications at  the  News  Stands  and  in  the  Post  Office.  The  Police 
Gazette  put  out  an  issue  that  was  irreproachable,  -  and  the  Edi- 
tor and  Proprietor,  Mr.  Fox,  wrote  me  a  letter  asking  me  to 
mark  all  passages  and  pictures  that  I  objected  to  in  it.  I  kept 
the  paper,  and  I  wrote  him  a  heart  to  heart  letter,  but  I  did  not 
mark  any  picture  nor  articles  and  he  never  replied  to  me  in 
that  paper.  Later  on  the  Police  Gazette  published  an  account 


58  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

of  a  murder  committed  in  our  County  and  the  capture  of  the 
murderer,  and  sent  at  least  one  thousand  advertisements  of 
that  special  copy  to  Effingham;  but  our  News  Dealers  obeyed 
the  law  and  none  of  the  copies  got  in  that  we  know  of.  In 
the  years  since  then,  I  can  say  the  pictorial  papers  emphasizing 
vice  and  crime  never  revived  their  former  glory;  their  wings 
had  been  clipped;  the  evil  is  not  ended  yet  which  is  another  tale, 
but  I  went  around  the  world  with  this  matter,  with  the  Attor- 
ney General  of  Illinois. 

In  Illinois  we  have  what  we  call  School  Trustees,  who  look 
after  any  school  lands  or  funds,  who  enlarge  or  change  school 
districts,  and  who  elect  the  township  Treasurer  who  handles 
the  money  of  all  the  school  districts  of  the  township.  It  is  an 
election  that  seldom  calls  out  more  than  thirty  or  forty  votes  in 
our  section.  The  election  is  held  between  one  and  four  P.  M. 
on  a  Saturday,  and  with  us  the  same  men  were  elected  over 
and  over  again;  nobody  cared.  We  had  a  safe  Treasurer  and 
nobody  bothered  their  heads  about  that  election.  Mr.  Kepley 
had  been  one  of  the  three  trustees  for  a  number  of  years  and 
was  helping,  April  12,  1886  hold  the  election  and  trying  to  get 
in  enough  votes  to  call  it  an  election.  Then  Wm.  C.  Wright 
had  a  droll  idea  enter  his  head,  and  he  proceeded  to  act  upon 
it.  He  went  to  a  number  of  men  and  said  "Let's  beat  Kepley 
with  his  wife",  and  everybody  fell  into  the  joke,  and  votes  be- 
gan to  come  in.  Mr.  Kepley  went  out  to  call  the  closing  of  the 
polls,  when  Mr.  Wright  said  "Kepley  you  give  us  a  little  time 
and  we  will  elect  your  wife  and  beat  you".  "All  right"  said 
Mr.  Kepley  "hustle",  and  they  did,  and  I  was  elected  school 
trustee  over  my  husband.  I  was  about  my  own  affairs  that  day 
and  knew  nothing  of  what  was  going  on  until,  just  as  we 
started  to  supper  that  evening,  Mr.  Kepley  said  to  me  with  a 
twinkle  in  his  eye,  "You  are  elected."  "Good  gracious"  I 
sputtered,  "what  to"?  "Why  school  trustee".  "Well  I  never!" 
I  did  not  even  remember  there  was  an  election.  .  The  special 
telegramers  sent  word  to  the  great  dailies  at  once  and  that  lit- 
tle affair  went  flying  through  the  world  like  wildfire.  The 
clipping  bureaus  wrote  to  me  to  sell  clippings,  and  around  the 
world  I  went  for  the  third  time.  Our  town  was  all  a-giggle 
and  a-grin,  they  were  in  the  lime  light  for  once,  if  it  was  a 


A  LOVE  STORY  59 

joke,  and  they  all  made  merry  together  over  it.  Since  Mr. 
Kepley  took  part  in  it  and  aided  and  abetted  the  joke,  he  had  his 
fun  too,  for  like  the  wise  man  that  he  was  he  delighted  to  push 
me  out. 

When  the  trustees  met,  the  Secretary,  who  was  a  cultured 
German  Catholic  gentleman  who  had  an  education  for  the 
priesthood,  with  a  finish  in  France  and  England  and  Rome,  in  a 
choice  little  speech  nominated  me  for  President  of  the  Board  of 
Trustees,  and  I  served  for  three  years  with  a  German  Catholic 
Banker,  a  German  Catholic  Justice  of  the  Peace,  and  a  German 
Catholic  Farmer,  who  composed  the  Board.  I  did  not  wish  re- 
election or  I  suppose  I  could  have  had  it.  It  was  the  first  time 
ever  in  the  world  I  suppose  a  woman  beat  her  husband  for  an 
elective  office.  That  ought  to  have  settled  the  question  of 
the  safety  of  the  family  in  politics;  my  election  was  a  good  ag- 
itation for  the  question  of  suffrage  for  women  which  satisfied 
both  Mr.  Kepley  and  myself,  so  we  travelled  around  the  world 
together  this  time. 

The  last  time  I  went  around  the  world  was  with  two  of  my 
dogs,  Waldo  and  Sampson,  in  1897.  The  evening  of  March  1st, 
I  had  come  from  supper  with  Mr.  Kepley  and  while  he  put  up  the 
horses  I  started  to  go  upstairs,  the  two  dogs  with  me.  The 
dogs  ran  up  the  steps  ahead  of  me  and  got  after  something;  I 
knew  by  their  barking.  I  called  them  to  order,  thinking  it  was 
our  hired  man;  they  barked  as  if  they  intended  to  bite.  Sud- 
denly a  man,  disguised,  ran  down  the  stairs,  knocking  me  to 
one  side  as  I  stood  in  the  doorway.  I  went  against  the  wall 
of  the  house  and  came  to  my  knees,  when  he  struck  me  several 
hard  licks  with  what  I  was  told  afterwards  must  have  been 
rubber  tubing  used  in  drawing  beer,  and  then  fired  a  pistol  at 
me.  It  happened  quickly.  I  screamed  I  suppose,  for  Mr. 
Kepley  who  was  in  the  barn  ran  to  me.  The  would  be  murderer 
ran  down  the  alley  adjacent.  The  dogs  had  followed  the  fellow 
down  stairs  and  made  at  him,  and  Waldo  got  a  bullet  wound  in 
his  foot  that  clipped  a  bit  of  the  flesh  out.  The  bullet  was 
found  next  morning  in  the  hall  when  the  help  swept;  we  found 
the  caliber  of  the  gun  it  came  from,  and  the  shape  of  the  bullet 
showed  it  had  been  fired  downward  at  me,  but  missed  me  and 
clipped  the  dog's  foot.  Our  physician,  Dr.  J.  B.  Walker  came 


60  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER] 

to  examine  the  dog's  foot  and  to  determine  the  caliber  of  the 
revolver,  the  inclination  of  the  bullet  and  the  nearness  of  the 
shot  fired  at  me;  also,  the  police  came  to  make  enquiries,  etc., 
and  the  bullet  was  found  next  morning  in  the  hall  by  my  help. 

Mr.  Richard  Lawson,  who  edited  and  owned  The  Republi- 
can office  at  this  time,  asked  me  for  a  picture  of  the  dogs, 
Waldo  and  Sampson,  to  accompany  an  account  of  the  affair  he 
wrote  for  his  paper.  Mrs.  Emily  Butler  who  was  the  best  an- 
imal artist  I  ever  met  took  the  picture  with  this  sketch,  and  it 
went  the  rounds.  Rev.  Jasper  L.  Douthett  the  well  known  Editor 
of  Our  Best  Words  and  of  Lithia  Chataqua,  Shelbyville,  Illinois, 
asked  for  the  picture  and  the  sketch  for  his  paper,  which  is 
widely  circulated.  Geo.  Angel,  the  Editor  of  Our  Dumb  Ani- 
imals,  asked  him  for  the  sketch  and  picture  for  Our  Dumb 
Animals,  and  as  Our  Dumb  Animals  travels  all  over  the  civil- 
ized world,  I  started  on  my  long  journey  with  the  two  dogs. 
An  English  Sporting  Paper  wrote  to  me  for  the  dogs'  pictures 
and  the  story  of  their  lives  and  a  sketch  and  I  sent  that.  A 
number  of  other  animal  and  sporting  papers,  used  both.  Mrs. 
Sarah  K.  Bolton's  book,  "Our  Devoted  Friend,  the  Dog"  used 
the  two  dogs  and  the  sketch  and  my  connection  with  them,  so 
I  travelled  extensively  with  my  dear  dumb  friends. 

I'd  dearly  love  to  visit  some  foreign  lands,  in  propia  per- 
sonam  but  I  could  not  visit  near  all  of  them  as  I  have  with 
Waldo  and  Sampson.  Waldo  was  a  beautiful  long  haired  dog 
crossed,  I  think,  between  setter  and  shepard.  He  was  tan 
and  black  and  white  and  he  had  large,  expressive  brown  eyes 
that  looked  only  love  and  trust  and  promise  to  me.  Sampson 
Thu  was  named  for  Domine  Sampson  of  "Prodigous"  memory. 
He  had  a  twin  brother  I  called  Rhoderick  Dhu  and  I  put  the 
Thu  on  his  name  to  match  the  Dhu  on  Rhoderick's.  He  was  a 
little  short  legged  "tyke",  as  the  Scotch  say,  black  as  coal  with 
anxious  loving  eyes.  I  think  there  was  never  such  an  odd  dog 
as  "Sampie".  He  could  hardly  endure  life  away  from  me  and 
would  do  anything  to  be  where  I  wa's,  even  climbing  ladders 
high  up  to  me.  He  seemed  to  know  my  mind,  and  his  soul  vi- 
brated to  my  mood.  I've  known  him  to  scream  when  I  felt 
sad,  and  cast  himself  upon  me  when  he  could  not  stand  my 
sadness.  Waldo  got  the  bullet  wound  in  his  foot.  Dear,  faith- 


A  LOVE  STORY 


61 


ful   friends,    I  travelled  in  -good  company 
when  we  went  round  the  world   together 
and  among  the  best  of  and  wisest  People. 
So  ends  the  history   of  my   four  trips 
around  the  civilized  world;  with  the  United 
THE  BULLET        states  of  America  and  a  negro  in   1870-71; 
with  the  Attorney  General  of  Illinois  in  1883-84;  with  my  hus- 
band in  1886-87;  witk  my  dogs,  Waldo  and  Sampson,  in  1897-98. 


WALDO  AND  SAMPSON 


62  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

ADDENA. 

Some  may  be  curious  to  know  if  I  caught  my  would-be  mur- 
derer. Yes,  I  did.  He  was  the  son  of  a  well  known  liquor 
dealer  in  Effingham  and  was  very  angry  because  I  published 
him  for  being  drunk.  A  man  passed  me  on  the  street  one  day 
and  said,  as  he  passed,  '  'I  think  Ike  Green  knows  something 
you  need  to  know",  and  Green  told  me  Tom  Reed  and  John 
Guyon  knew  something;  Green  had  seen  my  assailant  come  out 
of  an  alley  and  go  into  a  saloon  across  the  way.  Reed  and 
Guyon  told  me  they  saw  the  same  party  go  to  the  bar  in  the 
saloon  and  get  a  drink  of  whiskey,  and  that  they  thought  he 
got  a  gun  from  the  saloon  keeper  who  gave  him  the  drink;  they 
heard  the  shot,  and  when  they  found  out  the  news,  they  were 
of  the  opinion  who  the  man  was  and  what  he  obtained  the  drink 
and  gun  for.  I  found  a  young  man,  Chas.  Jones,  who  told  me 
he  was  in  the  atelier  of  a  man  music  teacher,  and  some  one 
rapped  and  a  young  man  in  charge,  Joseph  Irving,  opened  the  door 
and  let  some  one  in,  and  he  asked  Joseph  who  it  was  and  got  the 
name.  He  also  the  next  day,  when  he  heard  the  news,  said  he 
was  certain  the  young  man  was  my  assailant.  I  went  to  Douglas 
County,  Illinois,  and  found  Joseph  Irving  and  he  had  had  a  let- 
ter from  the  young  fellow  who  tried  to  murder  me,  begging 
him  not  to  give  him  away.  He  turned  the  letter  over  and  wrote 
the  young  man  his  opinion  of  him  and  sent  it  back.  I  set  the 
matter  before  the  grand  jury;  the  saloons  kept  open  house  all 
week  for  that  grand  jury;  of  course  they  refused  to  do  any- 
thing except  three  of  them.  Then  the  foreman  of  the  Grand 
Jury,  Mr.  Geo.  Poorman  of  Altamont,  Illinois,  said  to  the  States 
Attorney  "Will  you  adjourn  this  grand  jury,  I'm  not  going  to 
sit  over  such  a  farce  any  longer".  I  knew  a"  number  of  that 
grand  jury  and  I  did  not  wonder;  It  was  supposed  a  number  of 
people  in  Effingham  County  would  be  pleased  that  I  was  unpro- 
tected from  assault  and  even  death,  and  that  the  man  who  as- 
saulted me  was  protected.  Messrs.  George  Poorman,  Harvey 
Gorrell  and  Adam  Hutton  were  the  grand  jurors  who  voted  to 
indict  my  would  be  murderer;  the  rest  did  not  care. 

The  man  who  tried  to  murder  me  is  a  wanderer  on  the  earth 
and  sunk  as  low  as  a  man  can  get.  A  number  of  the  actors  of 
this  drama  are  no  more.  The  dear  friend  who  cherished  me 


A  LOVE  STORY  63 

has  joined  the  "silent  majority".  Waldo  and  Sampson  have 
paid  their  debt  to  Nature;  and  I  am  forgiven  of  my  offences. 
No  one  wants  to  kill  me  now,  and  what  I  taught  and  suffered 
for,  and  my  husband  sacrificed  for— The  Cause  of  Temperance- 
draws  nearer  and  nearer  to  victory  the  whole  world  over. 

Shortly  after  the  saloons,  were  voted  out  of  Effingham  I 
came  upon  the  saloon  keeper  from  whom  my  would-be  mur- 
derer got  his  gun  and  whiskey.  He  was  seated  mournfully 
with  a  couple  of  cronies  behind  his  saloon,  which  was  shut.  We 
had  a  friendly  conversation  together,  and  the  saloon  man  said 
to  me  "I'm  not  a  bad  fellow,  am  I?  Did  you  ever  know  any- 
thing bad  of  me"?  "Well",  I  said,  "the  worst  thing  I  ever 
heard  of  you  was  that  you  gave  the  pistol  to  kill  me";  and  I 
waited  to  see  if  he  would  deny  it,  but  he  did  not.  So  I  was  con- 
vinced he  did  furnish  the  pistol  as  well  as  the  whiskey  to  end 
my  life.  Some  way,  somehow,  I  escaped  with  my  life  and,  as 
I  said,  no  one  wants  to  kill  me  now;  my  sins  are  all  forgiven  in* 
that  line.  I  have  complete  absolution. 


64  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

MUSIC. 

"And  it  came  to  pass  that  ivhen  an  evil  spirit  came  upon 
Saul  that  David  took  an  harp  and  played  with  his  hand;  so  Saul 
was  refreshed  and  was  well,  and  the  evil  spirit  departed  from 
him." — Bible. 

"All  music  is  what  awakes  from  you  when  you  are  reminded 
by  the  instruments.  —  Walt.  Whitman. 

Music  is  used  to  quiet  and  heal  lunatics  in  Hospitals;  it 
soothes  and  heals  the  sick.  It  is  beautiful  to  see  the  feet  of 
little  children  respond  in  harmonious  movements  to  sweet  sounds. 
I  saw  a  little  lad  dance  to  Band  Music  a  whole  evening.  He 
was  two  years  old,  and  the  music  made  him  happy;  and  un- 
conscious of  others,  he  moved  rythmically  hands,  feet  and  body 
to  every  melody  that  was  given  at  a  street  concert. 

We  know  a  violin  played  to  the  keynote  of  a  great  structure 
can  level  it  to  the  earth.  Machines  in  factories  are  set  at  discord, 
not  in  unison,  to  keep  the  buildings  safe,  and  that  they  may 
not  be  torn  down-  by  the  united  power  of  the  machines.  The 
"Machine  Doctor"  uses  his  rod  to  detect  breaks  in  the  harmony 
of  molecules  and  atoms,  and  sometimes  a  record  made  of  sounds, 
and  repeated  on  a  talking  machine  tells  him  the  trouble  with  a 
machine,  and  prevents  disaster  on  land  and  sea.  Wild  cattle 
on  the  ranges,  about  to  stampede,  settle,  when  the  cow  boys 
sing  hymns.  Wolves  have  been  held  at  bay  by  the  melody  of  a 
violin  and  the  harmony  of  a  human  voice  in  song.  A  strange 
tale  is  told  of  a  woman  who  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  lot  of  half 
wild  and  drunken  men.  She  sang  until  exhausted  and  saved 
her  honor  and  perhaps  her  life.  The  blowing"  of  a  rams  horn 
struck  the  keynote  of  the  walls,  and  Jericho  fell. 

We  have  not  learned  all  there  is  in  song  and  harmonious 
sounds,  any  more  than  we  know  the  law  by  which  the  great 
blocks  which  compose  the  Pyramids  were  lifted  into  their  places, 
nor  of  the  laws  that  govern  us  and  the  stars,  but  we  do  know 
that- 

"Music  Heavenly  zeal  inspires, 

It  lifts  the  soul  and  sets  it  high 

And  fits  it  for  Divinity". 


A  LOVE  STORY  65 

It  is  of  God  and  we  master  it  in  part  in  the  piping  of  the 
flute,  in  the  organ  peal,  in  the  blowing  of  the  trumpet,  in  the 
scream  of  the  fife,  in  the  rattle  of  the  drum  and  all  other  instru- 
ments of  sound,  and  by  the  human  voice  we  may  lift  ourselves 
God  ward. 

The  winds,  the  rains,  the  stars  and  celestial  bodies  all  move 
in  harmony  "making  music".  The  birds,  the  beasts,  the  flow- 
ers, are  all  exemplars  of  musical  laws.  Some  one  teaches 
music  is  creative  and  that  it  may  bring  forth  a  star.  Ah,  who 
can  tell?  We  do  not  know  ourselves.  We  have  only  the  merest 
smatter  of  knowledge  of  the  mysterious  forces  of  the  Universe. 

The  Chinese,  who  have  a  fashion  of  searching  out  the  ulti- 
mates  of  things,  say  they  have  found  the  keynote  of  the  Uni- 
verse; and  some  more  modern  and  civilized  people  say  that  all 
the  great  sounds  of  nature  resolve  themselves  into  the  sound 
the  Chinese  have  discovered.  The  winds,  the  roar  of  torrents, 
the  shriek  of  the  tempest  it  is  said  resolve  into  the  sound  of 
middle  F;  however  this  may  be  all  nature  is  vocal. 

When  I  send  the  men  to  haul  up  dead  wood  to  burn,  I 
always  say  "Strike  it  with  the  ax  and  if  it  sings  it  will  burn 
all  right".  The  ring  of  the  axes  which  swing  on  my  own  farm 
and  come  into  us  from  the  neighborhood  farms,  is  musical 
and  vary  with  the  condition  of  the  atmosphere,  from  a  sharp 
staccato  when  it  was  very  cold  and  frosty  to  a  duller  ring  when 
the  air  is  heavy. 

I  enjoy  the  music  of  the  great  cross  cut  saws  as  they  sing 
their  way  through  the  trunks  of  the  trees,  and  their  tremolo 
when  they  are  handled  or  cast  down.  The  ascending  scale  one 
hears  as  the  hatchets  and  hammers  drive  the  nails  from  sixes  to 
spikes,  make  one  wish  to  know  of  the  law  which  governs  them; 
the  lowing  of  the  cattle,  the  neighing  of  the  horses,  the  bleating 
of  the  sheep,  the  shrill  cries  of  the  pigs  who  quarrel  or  complain 
when  the  nights  are  cold  and  run  hot  footed  and  squealing  to  an- 
swer the  call  for  food,  the  gobble  of  the  turkeys,  the  wild 
shrieks  of  the  peacocks,  the  clamor  of  the  cocks,  the  cackle 
and  clucking  of  the  hens,  the  calling  of  the  flocks,  the  child- 
ren's voices  shrilling  from  place  to  place,  the  caw  of  the 
crows,  the  singing  of  the  birds  all  are  as  full  of  music  in  their 
way  as  the  set  melodies  of  a  band  or  of  a  musical  instrument, 


66  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

and  are  fuH  of  a  keen  delight  and  inspiration  to  me.  They 
fill  me  with  feelings  I  cannot  express,  except  to  say  in  the 
words  of  an  old  song,  "There  is  Music;  there  is  Music  Every- 
where". 

My  farm  is  full  of  music  to  me,    and  I   seek   to  know  its 
special  harmonies. 


A  LOVE  STORY  67 

A  SCHOOL  ELECTION. 

I  have  taken  part  in  many  school  elections.  Men,  no  mat- 
ter how  they  feel  about  the  ballot  for  women,  are  obliged  to 
give  in  when  women  can  vote. 

In  Illinois,  as  well  as  in  a  number  of  other  States,  \vomen 
have  the  school  ballot,  and  vote  for  school  directors,  school  trus- 
tees, and  trustees  of  State  University.  At  election  time  voters 
are  in  demand,  male  and  female. 

"Josiar  Allen"  thought  "females,"  were  too  fraguile  to 
vote,  as  he  told  Samantha;  he  has  many  followers,  but  when 
the  women  can  vote  and  both  sides  wish  to  win  in  an  election, 
the  brethern  all  seem  to  forget  how  fraguile  the  "females,"  are, 
and  they  do  their  best  to  get  all  the  women  to  vote  for  their 
tickets,  and  they  are  taken  to  the  polls  in  carriages  if  they  feel 
too  "fraguile"  to  walk.  It  is  jolly  to  go  into  a  well  contested 
school  election.  I  never  knew  of  any  women  fighting  or  pulling 
hair  at  an  election,  though  I  have  seen  some  hotly  contested 
elections.  We  women  run  our  buggies,  hunt  up  the  forgotten, 
and  new  voters,  and  bring  in  those  who  hang  back.  When  we 
come  out  on  top,  well— we  feel  mighty  good! 

The  Governmental  township  in  which  we  voted  for  trustees 
included  Teutopolis  and  Douglas  townships  and  had  many 
German  Catholic  and  Lutheran  voters,  who  generally  opposed 
the  ballot  for  women.  They  used  to  think  it  scandalous  for 
women  to  vote,  and  some  of  their  women  sang  the  same  song 
with  some  of  our  men  and  women,  but  they  are  getting  used  to 
it  now.  It  is  said  when  St.  Patrick  can't  make  something  he 
breaks  something.  I  followed  his  policy  as  well  as  I  knew 
how.  There  was  to  be  an  election  for  school  trustees  for  Doug- 
las and  Teutopolis  townships  and  I  nominated  Elizabeth  Over- 
beck  of  Teutopolis  as  school  trustee.  I  had  a  number  of  tick- 
ets printed  which  I  paid  for,  and  with  her  name  I  printed  the 
names  of  two  other  candidates  on  the  regular  ticket.  She  was 
agreed  to  it  and  it  is  proper  and  allowable  to  so  nominate.  All 
one  needs  is  to  get  the  ticket  out  and  voted  for  if  possible,  and 
pay  the  printer.  Elizabeth  Overbeck  was  a  vigorous  minded 


68  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

Catholic;  she  had  the  affliction  of  a  son  who  was  regularly 
robbed  by  the  saloon  of  his  senses,  and  his  money, 'and  she  had 
a  heart,  full,  for  other  Mothers  who,  like  herself,  were  robbed 
of  the  sons  they  risked  their  lives  for,  and  put  to  the  shame, 
and  made  to  suffer  for.  She  became  a  member  of  the  W.  C.  T. 
U.  and  a  terror  to  the  Saloon  keepers  of  Teutopolis  whose  saloons 
she  visited  and  whose  proprietors  she  threatened  with  the  law. 
With  my  aid  she  had  the  whole  of  them  indicted  once,  and  they 
feared  and  hated  her.  It  was  supposed  Teutopolis  Saloon  keepers 
could  not  be  indicted— they  had  a  cinch  on  the  County  officials  and 
grand  juries,  but  Elizabeth  worked  up  the  evidence.  The  Lord 
seemed  to  have  sent  the  right  kind  of  a  grand  jury,  and  all  the 
Teutopolis  Saloon  keepers  were  indicted  as  they  badly  needed 
to  be.  It  was  demonstrated  once  that  there  was  a  law,  and 
they  could  be  punished  for  disobedience  to  it.  After  that  Eliz- 
abeth would  go  into  the  saloons  and  in  a  stern  voice  order  minors 
and  drunkards  to  go  home— discoursing  to  them  meantime  of 
their  sins.  To  Saloon  keepers  she  would  say,  'Til  have  you 
indicted",  and  the  men  and  boys  ran  home.  Elizabeth  said  to 
me,  "I  have  to  laugh— they  run  like  mice  when  the  cat  comes 
in".  She  was  a  fearsome  woman  when  she  began,  but  she 
grew  to  be  a  fearless  one. 

When  Elizabeth's  name  went  on  the  ticket  for  school 
trustee  for  Teutopolis  township  there  was  an  uproar  that  sounded 
tremendously  through  the  two  townships  of  Douglas  and  Teu- 
topolis, and  such  canvassing  to  beat  "Elizabeth",  and  the  lies 
that  were  industriously  circulated!  One  man  said  to  me,  "Why 
that  woman  can  neither  read  nor  write".  "Oh  well",  I  said, 
"she  has  good  hard  sense  and  she  knows  more  than  many  who 
have  held  office  in  this  County,  and  I  know  there  is  a  man  on 
that  board  of  trustees  now,  who  was  born  and  raised  in  this 
County,  who  is  forty  years  old  and  who  was  never  on,  or  took 
a  ride  on  a  railroad  train  in  his  life"  and  he  shut  up.  Eliza- 
beth had  not  the  ghost  of  a  chance  for  an  election  but  every 
body  on  both  sides  worked  just  as  if  there  was  every  chance 
for  her:  It  was  as  funny  as  the  Clowns  show  in  Ringling's 
Circus.  Usually  there  were  less  than  50  votes  cast  at  an  election 
for  School  Trustees  but  this  time  almost  1000  votes  were  polled. 


A  LOVE  STORY  69 

Oh,  it  was  a  great  day— everybody  was  routed  out  to  vote 
and  hardly  a  woman  or  man  escaped.  Some  of  our  zealous 
friends  wished  to  challenge  some  doubtful  women's  votes,  but 
Mr.  Kepley  said,  "Let  'em  vote,  that's  the  main  point".  He 
always  declared  that  election  robbed  the  grave,  for  one  old  sick, 
German  woman  fell  dead  when  she  got  home  after  voting.  We 
had  a  bigger  "hulabuloo"  than  a  Presidential  election.  We  set- 
tled the  question  of  the  right  of  a  foreign  born  woman  to  vote  on 
her  husband's  naturalization  papers.  There  was  a  tremendous 
agitation.  All  the  women  voted  and  that  was  what  we  were 
after,  so  we  were  in  fact  successful,  and  "Elizabeth"  was  a 
more  wholesome  power  ever  afterwards.  It  was  a  day  of  great 
things, that  election  day;  the  law  and  the  Gospel  came  together. 
We  "con  verted  many  people  to  the  ballot  for  women.  We  agi- 
tated that  and  the  temperance  question  for  the  saloon  vote  was 
solid  against  our  candidate. 

Complaint  was  made  to  the  Bishop  of  the  diocese  against 
"Elizabeth";  on  a  visit  he  made  to Teutopolis,  and  she  was  much 
disturbed  when  asked  to  appear  before  him;  but  this  high  dig- 
nitary soon  put  her  at  her  ease.  He  asked  many  questions  con- 
cerning the  town  and  the  saloon  and  the  township;  he  settled 
one  legal  question  for  her,  and  gave  her  his  blessing,  and  en- 
forced and  made  known  his  decision  before  a  witness.  A  young 
priest,  in  the  absence  of  his  superior,  called  "Elizabeth"  before 
him,  "raked  her",  and  in  his  wrath  smote  her  on  the  breast.  He 
was  lucky  she  was  more  of  a  Christian  than  he  was  for  she  was  big 
enough  to  have  knocked  him  down.  But  she  was  mad  and  de- 
clared to  me  that  if  she  had  had  a  witness  she  would  have  had 
him  arrested,  and  she  would.  The  Bishop  saw  in  this  humble 
Christian  Mother  the  material  of  which  Saints  are  made.  I  call 
her  St.  Elizabeth  and  if  her  church  will  not  canonize  her,  I  will; 
to  me  she  is  St.  Elizabeth  of  Teutopolis.  St.  Elizabeth  has  gone 
to  her  reward,  but  the  work  she  did  lives.  She  is  the  greatest 
woman  who  ever  lived  in  Teutopolis  Township,  Effingham 
County,  Illinois. 

So  ended  this  election  which  contains  enough  material 
for  a  drama  when  the  times  are  ripe;  it  will  keep. 


70 


A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


ELIZABETH  OVERBECK, 

St.  Elizabeth  of  Teutopolis. 


I  always  had  staunch  friends  among 
the  German  Catholics,  who  knew  right- 
eousness, and  could  see  it  in  the  de- 
spised cause  of  temperance.  A  cultured 
gentleman  of  Teutopolis  sent  me  three 
poems  and  gave  me  other  aid,  and  I 
had  other  good  friends  there.  Eliza- 
beth was  unlearned,  uncultured.  He, 
with  all  the  culture  of  the  schools,  left 
a  poerh  that  lives  in  Teutopolis.  Both 
rest  from  their  labors  now.  A  simple 
cross  rises  above  St.  Elizabeth's  space 
in  God's  acre,  and  his  mortality  is  en- 
shrined in  marble,  but  the  good  they 
did  is  their  real  and  most  enduring 
memorial,  and  both  were  potent  in 
that  school  election. 


A  LOVE  STORY  71 

THE  CARDINAL,  OR  RED  BIRD. 

Like  a  coal  of  fire  our  cedar  or  cardinal  bird,  commonly 
known  as  the  red  bird,  flashes  through  the  land.  He  greets 
one  in  the  morning  with  a  happy  song.  He  loves  to  sing  an 
evening  melody  and  twitter  in  our  trees,  but  he  likes  to  sing  at 
high  noon  too. 

I  heard  one  at  noon  day  in  a  dead  oak  in  one  of  my  barn  lots. 
He  was  in  the  tip  top  of  it  and  singing  his  best.  That  he  sang 
in  mid  day  drew  my  attention.  He  sang  as  if  in  ecstacy.  He 
had  had  a  hard  time  evidently,  rearing  his  family  and  waiting 
upon  his  mate;  his  tail  was  all  gone  but  one  feather  and  he  was 
dreadfully  shabby  every  way;  but  there  he  sang  in  the  top  of  the 
tree,  and  it  was  a  jolly  song.  He  had  no  complaints  of  his  hard 
working  past;  he  had  no  forebodings  of  the  future.  What  was 
cold  and  rain  and  sleet  and  chill;  he  did  not  think  anything 
about  them;  he  was  full  of  happiness  now,  and  he  told  it  in  a 
song.  I  spoke  to  the  men  of  it  and  one  of  them  said,  "I  wish  I 
was  as  happy  as  that  bird",  and  I  think  we  all  wished  the  same 
wish;  but  he  had  given  us  an  inspiration  and  an  uplift  with  his 
life  and  his  song.  We  all  could  be  happier  if  we  would  imitate 
the  birds. 

I  once  knew  of  a  red  bird  who  made  her  nest  in  a-vine  on  a 
wall  in  Effingham.  The  Housemother  was  a  sweet  lady  and  loved 
the  birds,  and  hung  out  the  fats  of  meat  for  them  in  the  winter, 
and  the  birds  honored  her  with  their  presence.  So  this  red  bird 
lady  made  her  nest  on  the  wall,  and  we  laughed  for  in  the  bottom 
she  placed  a  piece  of  printed  paper,  we  thought  she  must  be 
literary.  She  raised  her  family  undisturbed  and  respected. 

I  once  made  the  acquaintance  of  another  red  bird.  She  had 
a  nest  in  a  cedar  tree  on  the  side  of  a  ravine  at  my  farm.  She 
flew  out  as  I  was  hunting  ferns  and  I  caught  my  lady.  In  her 
nest  were  some  eggs  which  I  did  not  stay  long  enough  to  count. 
I  always  wanted  to  go  back  and  see  the  young  ones  but  I  was 
too  busy,  and  when  I  did  get  back  the  nest  was  empty.  I  did 
not  betray  her,  though  I  bragged  of  my  friend,  and  I'm  afraid 
strained  the  truth  when  I  said  the  red  bird  wished  me  to  call 
again.  I  was  sure  see  would  have  if  she  had  known  that  on  my 
farm  all  birds  are  respected  and  not  molested,  and  they  can 
have  feed  always,  no  hunters  allowed. 


72  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

THE  RED  BIRD. 

At  early  morn,  Oh  scarlet  coat. 

From  out  the  topmost  branch  of  tallest  trees 

We  hear  thy  bright  clear  notes  pierce  upper  air 

With  thrilling  cadence  sweet; 

So  thin,  so  clear,  so  sweet,  so  glad 

We  upward  look  toward  heaven  and  thee 

And  drink  the  free  untrammeled  bliss 

That  gushes  from  they  throat, 

And  all  the  world  and  care  and  fret  forget; 

Till  silence  brings  us  back  to  earth  again. 


A  LOVE  STORY  73 

A  MORNING  ELEVATION 

It  was  the  early  morning  but  the  moon  was  so  brilliant  I 
could  not  tell  if  it  were  daylight  or  not.  The  earth  was  illum- 
inated with  the  glory  of  Luna  at  her  full  and  she  hung  in  the 
Western  sky.  I  gazed  upon  it's  magnificence  and  I  was  moved 
to  offer  myself  in  adoration  of  all  that  heavenly  scene.  It  seemed 
natural  and  good  and  I  remembered  it  was  all  given  to  man;  he 
was  to  have  dominion  over  that  and  all  the  works  of  Gods  hands. 
I  turned  toward  the  East,  the  sun  had  not  arisen  but  great 
streamers  of  red  ran  to  and  fro  across  the  sky  like  messengers, 
announcing  the  coming  day,  and  I  began  to  sing  a  love  song  I 
learned  at  school:— "Love  good  morning,  love  good  morning, 
hail  my  life's  adorning",  I  could  not  help  it. 

Sir  Moses  Montefiore;  the  great  Jewish  Philanthropist,  each 
morning  sang  joyously  a  hymn  of  praise  to  his  God;  it  was  some- 
thing he  never  neglected.  I  wished  I  too  might  every  morning 
sing  my  song  as  he  did.  If  all  the  earth  at  the  morning  hour 
were  vocal  with  the  praise  of  God  out  of  loving  hearts,  how  full 
the  world  would  be  of  goodness  and  of  the  manifestation  of 
God's  power.  The  earth  and  sky  are  glorious  in  form  and 
beauty  on  all  our  farms  and  at  the  early  morning,  and  ought  to 
fill  us  with  worship  of  the  Creator.  The  birds  hold  their  most 
splendid  concerts  at  the  morning  hour.  They  are  full  of  joy. 


MESSAGES  FROM  GOD. 

Of  a  truth  our  Heavenly  Father  sends  messages,  to  his 
children.  If  we  take  note  we  shall  find  many  things  are  sent 
to  us.  So  often  aweary  at  night  and  often  harrassed  and  not 
certain  what  is  best  for  me  to  do,  I  commit  it  to  the  Lord  and 
dismiss  it  from  my  mind,  and  go  to  bed;  I  can't  do  anything 
about  it.  When  my  eyes  open  in  the  morning,  things  seem 
plain  before  me,  I  am  decided  on  the  course  that  seems  best 
for  me,  and  it  is  best.  Often  it  is  as  if  one  looked  out  when  a 
storm  was  on  and  all  is  dark.  Suddenly  comes  a  flash  of  light 
and  one  sees  everything.  I  often  marvel  at  the  messages  I  re- 
ceive, and  that  flash  across  my  mind  as  I  awaken  in  the  morning. 


74 


A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


THE  TEMPLE. 


Mr.  Kepley  bought  a  little  Southern  Methodist  Church  in 
Effingham  in  the  year  1884,  enlarged  it  and  fitted  it  up  as  a 
place  where  temperance  and  other  free  meetings  could  be  held; 
we  had  no  place  to  meet.  There  was  no  free  public  hall  for  the 
uses  of  the  people;  the  Churches  had  generally  closed  to  the  W. 
C.  T.  U.  after  the  defeat  of  Blain  and  the  election  of  Cleveland 
in  1884,  for  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  was  much  blamed  for  that  defeat 
though  it  was  not  their  fault  and  they  had  a  right  to  be  Pro- 
hibitionists and  declare  for  that  doctrine  it  if  they  wished,  and 
they  did,  though  it  caused  a  temporary  schism  in  the  ranks 
among  some  ardent  republican  women. 

In  Effingham  it  was  Democratic  and  the  County  was  that 
color  too,  but  when  we  wanted  to  use  the  Court  House  we  found 
the  door  locked  on  us;  the  objection  to  Prohibition  was  at  the 


A  LOVE  STORY  75 

bottom,  with  the  saloon  men  in  the  saddle.  We  were  out  in 
the  cold,  so  the  Temple  was  opened  and  for  almost  twenty- 
years  it.  was  the  home  for  Temperance  workers  and  for  strug- 
gling religious  peoples  who  had  no  home,  and  for  meetings  for 
righteousness  that  had  no  other  place.  The  Christian  Church 
had  a  years  free  use  of  it,  and  one  year  at  a  nominal  rent  and  they 
got  upon  their  own  feet  finally.  Holiness  and  Free  Methodists 
ran  revivals  in  it,  and  we  helped  them  ourselves,  though  not 
orthodox,  for  it  was  a  work  of  God  and  our  small  differences  did 
not  signify.  We  let  other  Churches  have  the  use  of  it  when 
they  needed  it.  We  held  Prohibition  party  meetings  when  we 
did  not  use  the  Court  House.  We  were  shut  out  for  everything. 
but  political  meetings.  The  Board  of  Supervisors,  because 
of  liquor  pressure,  shut  the  doors  of  the  temple  of  justice  on  us 
once  and  instructed  the  Sheriff  to  lock  us  out.  Mr.  Kepley  and 
some  of  our  men  went  to  the  Board  and  made  "a  row"  and  de- 
manded the  use  of  the  Court  House  for  Prohibition  meetings. 
The  reply  was  "Only  for  political  meetings  and  Agricultural, 
and  Court  meetings  shall  it  be  opened".  "Well",  said  he  "we 
are  in  politics  and  you  open  the  house  or  I'll  break  the  door 
down  and  go  in  on  my  rights  as  an  American  citizen".  That 
settled  it;  and  for  Political  meetings  we  used  it  when  we  choose 
after  that.  But  the  Temple  had  its  place.  For  six  months  of 
every  year  we  taught  the  children  each  Sabbath  the  most  vigor- 
ous things  we  knew  for  righteousness  and  temperance.  Here 
we  held  our  Diamond  Medal  Contests  our  Pet  Animal  Shows  and 
Industrial  Exhibits  and  every  exhibitor  got  a  gift  and  the  best 
had  extra  prizes.  What  happy,  helpful  days  they  were.  Here 
St.  John,  Francis  Willard,  Clara  Hoffman,  Edward  Carswell, 
George  Bain,  Lou  Beauchamp,  Mary  Haggard,  Mary  Lathrop, 
Zerelda  Wallace,  Henry  Austin,  Frank  Sibley,  Albert  Hopkins, 
Mary  Kuhl,  Helen  Hood,  Clara  Foltz,  Jake  Hoof stitler  Wolfen- 
barger,  and  many,  many  other  people  of  note  spoke,  besides, 
those  of  ours  who  spoke  at  the  Opera  House  and  Court  House. 
Our  Band  of  Hope  rallies  centered  here,  the  Festivals  of  the 
year;  opening,  closing,  New  Years,  Valentines  Day,  Easter 
were  all  held  in  its  precincts.  Our  walls  were  hung  with  banners 
and  pictures.  We  marched,  we  sang;  young  minds  were  shaped, 
men  and  women  were  lifted  up  and  their  feet  set  in  a  good  way 


76 


A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


and  out  of  our  work  the  Churches  were  enlarged.  We  named 
it  for  that  Temple  of  old,  a  symbol  of  that  Temple  not  made 
with  hands,  and  in  honor  of  the  Temple  family  from  which  I 
sprung  and  because  it  was  a  good  name  and  in  favor. 

The  Temple  is  a  memory  that  will  live  for  good  in  the  minds 
of  men  and  women  once  children  who  enjoyed  its  privilages. 
When  the  Master  of  the  Temple  was  called  from  '  'labor  to  re- 
ward" the  house  he  loved  was  decorated  for  the  last  festival  of 
us  all.  He  lay  as  in  slumber  in  his  royal  purple  casket,  and 
with  his  life  the  life  of  the  Temple  also  closed.  I  could  not  do 
that  work  without  the  one  who  established  it  for  so  many  bene- 
ficient  uses.  The  setting  of  my  life  had  changed  and  to  follow 
his  will,  I  had  other  things  to  do  now.  I  thank  God  for  the 
education  The  Temple  and  its  work  was  to  me.  Many  things 
were  hard,  unkind  and  thankless,  but  to  teach  the  children  was 
a  joy  and  we  built  on  sure  foundations.  Effingham  was  dry 
two  years  and  will  soon  be  a  dry  town  all  the  time,  and  so  will 
the  County  also  and  we  did  our  best  at  The  Temple  to  help  on 
that  happy,  happy  day. 


A  RALLY  ON  THE  COURT  HOUSE  STEPS 


A  LOVE  STORY  77 

IM  FRUELING. 

What  is  so  lovely  as  the  Springtime?  A  dear  sister  of  mine 
who  sang  a  sweet  alto,  and  I,  used  often  to  sing  Abts'  "Im 
Frueling"  together.  Sometimes  we  sang  it  in  English,  some- 
times in  German.  It  is  so  full  of  the  new  life  that  comes  after 
the  winter,  of  the  melting  of  the  snow  on  the  mountains,  of  the 
warming  of  the  earth  by  the  advancing  sun,  of  the  rising  of  the 
life  forces  in  trees  and  plants  and  herbage;  of  bird  songs  and 
earth  songs,  of  the  hum  of  bees  and  insects,  of  the  life  that  is 
in  men  and  animals,  of  the  sounds  that  come  from  near  and  far, 
in  the  beauty  of  bud  and  flower,  in  soft  rains  and  balmy  winds. 

In  Spring  what  joy!  The  cats  and  dogs  romp  and  run  as  if 
they  were  crazy;  the  cattle  and  horses  jump  and  snort  and  kick 
and  run ;  the  children  race  and  romp  and  run  and  call;  life  is 
full  of  delicious  things  and  lovers  dream  and  walk  and  talk  and 
plan  the  things  to  be. 

"In  the  Spring  a  young  man's  fancy  lightly  turns  to 
thoughts  of  love",  and  the  young  girl's  too.  Everywhere  life 
appears  new  and  abundant.  There  are  birds  in  the  nest,  young 
rabbits  in  the  fields,  squirrels  in  the  trees  with  little  ones,  lambs 
come  to  the  fold,  chickens  in  the  yards,  calves  in  the  barns  and 
pastures,  young  pigs  in  the  lots,  colts  in  the  barns  and  fields; 
the  fruit  trees  are  rich  with  blooms  and  promise  good  yields, 
and  the  farmer's  heart  is  full— the  world  seems  at  its  best  to 
him. 

The  soil  is  broken  by  the  ploughs  on  every  hand  and  the 
upturned  earth  is  sweet  and  savory  to  the  sense  of  smell.  There 
is  great  hope  on  every  hand  for  a  bounteous  harvest  and  the 
world  seems  at  its  high  tide  to  everyone  and  there  is  rejoicing 
everywhere.  Man  and  Nature  are  at  one,  "Im  Frueling". 


SPRING— A  SONNET. 

Across  the  fields  the  warm  south  wind  is  blown, 

The  sleeping  earth  awakes  to  joyous  growth, 

A  myriad  lives  cast  off  the  winters'  sloth, 

The  sweet  voiced  birds  from  summerlands  have  flown; 


78  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

The  ploughman  hastes  his  team  with  cheery  tone 

As  deep  his  furrows  cleave  the  mellow  soil, 

With  whistle  and  with  song  he  lightens  toil. 

•  The  blackbird  jangles  to  his  mate  alone 

As  wooing  he  pursues  her  through  the  air; 

While  budding  branches  wave,  embrace  and  grown, 

Too  rich  with  sun  and  dew— a  wedded  pair, 

A  veil  of  tender  white  and  pink  have  thrown  about 

their  to  be  treasures  rich, 
And  bring  to  human  lives  the  dear  delights  of  Spring. 


A  LOVE  STORY  79 


PRUNING  THE  GRAPE  VINES. 

I  pruned  the  grape  vines  the  other  day— the  first  time  since 
I  planted  them  except  to  clip  their  long  branches  in  summer. 
The  earth  was  full  of  water  for  there  had  been  much  rain,  but 
the  sky  was  blue,  the  air  was  warm,  the  birds  sang  if  it  was 
February;  the  life  of  the  coming  year  was  rising  like  a  tide.  So 
many  things  came  to  my  mind ;  I  wondered  why  everybody  did 
not  plant  a  grape  vine;  they  respond  so  quickly  and  generously 
to  even  a  little  care. 

Last  spring  the  extreme  late  cold  caught  the  vines  in  blos- 
som and  all  the  blooms  were  killed,  but  there  was  a  rush  of  sap, 
new  blossoms  came  and  we  had  some  grapes  to  eat  and  enough 
for  the  winter  store  of  jelly  and  jam,  so  generous  were  they  to 
us. 

I  wondered  why  every  Christian  did  not  plant  a  grape  vine, 
for  as  I  clipped  and  cut  I  thought  of  Christ  and  His  words— '  'My 
Father  is  the  Husbandman,  I  am  the  Vine,  ye  are  the  branches. " 
Jesus  no  doubt  pruned  the  Vines  as  they  are  staples  in  old  Pal- 
estine and  he  knew  all  about  their  culture  and  their  fruit.  He 
knew  the  nature  of  the  wines  of  His  day  so  when  He  gave  the 
wine  at  Cana  it  was  the  true  juice  of  the  vine,  not  a  fermented 
poison.  To  think  that  Jesus  would  serve  alcholic  wine  is  an  ab- 
surdity; to  suppose  he  gave  it  is  to  suppose  him  ignorant.  If 
any  one  could  know  of  the  intoxicating  properties  of  fermented 
wine  He  did.  If  men  and  women  had  been  drinking  fermented 
wine  up  to  the  date  the  wine  failed,  they  would  have  been  pretty 
well  under  its  influence,  and  no  right  minded  person  would  have 
served  more  alcholic  wine  at  such  a  time  unless  he  was  ignorant 
or  totally  reckless  of  consequences.  By  all  right  reckoning  the 
wine  served  at  Cana  was  non-alcholic.  Jesus  knew  of  the  varied 
wines  of  his  time  and  it  was  out  of  keeping  with  his  character 
to  suppose  he  would  serve  a  beverage  to  make  men  and  women 
drunk.  The  Bible  not  only  says  "Do  not  taste  wine";  it  says 
"Do  not  look  at  it"!  The  old  writers  knew  the  psychological 
effect  of  looking  at  evil.  Christ  knew  all  these  things  and  he 
was  obedient  to  the  highest  moral  and  spiritual  law.  "Oh" 
says  one  "Was  machts"?  "Aber  es  machts  fiel  sage  Ich". 


80  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

I  pruned  the  vines  and  my  thoughts  ran  of  Christ,  His  life 
and  His  wonderful  works.  I  walked  with  Him  who  pruned  the 
vines,  and  who  idealized  the  common  things  of  life.  I  knew 
His  hard  work,  the  toil  and  sweat  of  the  day,  the  long  heavy 
task  of  this  carpenter  laborer.  He  loved  and  followed  the  sowing, 
the  harvest,  the  brambles,  the  rocks;  the  people's  troubles  He 
made  his  own.  I  saw  old  Palestine  again  with  its  mountains 
and  valley  and  rocks  and  trees  and  rivers  and  lakes,  and  the  sea 
coast  and  the  blue  sea  and  Bethlehem  and  Nazareth  and  Geth- 
semane  and  Calvary.  I  saw  Gallilee;  I  saw  the  Jordan,  and  John, 
and  the  great  multitude  when  John  led  Jesus  into  the  blue 
waters  at  the  ford.  I  saw  Him  order  old  satan  to  get  behind 
Him;  I  felt  his  .grief  when  Peter  denied  Him  and  Judas  betrayed 
and  sold  Him.  I  saw  a  miserable  woman  fall  before  Him  and 
bathe  His  feet  with  her  tears  and  wipe  them  with  her  long  soft 
hair.  I  saw  Him  read  the  mind  of  Simon  who  rebuked  Him  in 
his  thoughts  and  with  his  voice.  I  saw  the  woman  go  in  tears 
as  she  was  bade  to  sin  no  more  by  this  man,  who  alone  of  all 
men  had  compassion  and  pity  for  her.  I  saw  Him  scrawl  in  the 
sand  when  another  woman  was  brought  before  Him  and  de- 
nounced by  men.  I  saw  them  slink  away  as  He  told  any  who 
was  free  from  the  same  sin  to  cast  the  first  stone  at  her.  I  saw 
the  poor  wretch  accused  pass  out  in  tears,  contrite  in  spirit, 
admonished  to  sin  no  more.  I  saw  Him  bless  the  little  children 
and  their  Mothers.  I  saw  Him  scourge  the  men  who  lied  to  get 
money.  I  saw  His  life.  I  remembered  the  simple  creed  He 
gave  to  men.  I  heard  His  fierce  invective  against  the  heads 
of  the  Church.  I  saw  the  bloody  sweat  His  anguish  forced  from 
Him  in  Gethsemane.  I  saw  Him  dumb  before  his  accusers.  I 
saw  Him  hang  on  Calvary's  tree,  deserted  by  all  but  the  women 
who  wept  for  Him  in  His  agony.  I  saw  Him  salute  the  women 
who  were  first  to  see  Him  after  His  resurrection,  "All  Hail". 
I  heard  the  royal  commission  He  gave  to  them  to  go  and  preach 
the  Gospel.  I  saw  Him  in  His  ascension  on  high,  after  which 
the  world  saw  Him  no  more.  I  was  at  one  with  Christ  as  I 
pruned  my  vines.  I  pruned  the  Grapes  as  Jesus  did  so  long 
ago  and  I  had  a  heavenly  vision  that  uplifted  me  to  the  heights. 


A  LOVE  STORY  81 

THE  CAT  BIRD. 

Shy,  sober,  coated  friend, 

With  tricksome  mimic  calls  that  know  no  end, 

Mock-bird  of  northern  climes  where  warmth  and  cold, 

In  their  successive  seasons  have  and  hold; 

In  door  yard,  leafy  bower,  and  woodland  shade, 

We  seek  and  find  thee,  and  thy  nest,  no  hand  has  made, 

And  list  enchanted  as  from  rapturous  throat, 

Thou  pourest  forth  a  flood  of  joyous  melody. 


82  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

THE  FERTILE  EARTH. 

Oh,  the  earth  is  our  Mother,  out  of  her  breast  she  feeds  us 
all.  She  takes  us  at  the  end  and  hides  us,  and  sets  the  spirit 
free. 

I  marvel  at  the  fertility  of  the  earth.  I  never  saw  a  spot  of 
it  so  poor  but  that  something  could  grow  on  it.  I  one  day  saw 
a  handful  of  earth  in  a  hollow  in  a  tree,  near  the  ground.  It 
held  perhaps  a  couple  of  handfuls  of  earth  and  in  that  tiny  bit 
of  soil  I  counted  eleven  small  plants  growing  and  each  different. 
It  was  of  interest  to  see  how  many  kinds  there  were.  Many 
farmers  rob  their  ground,  but  it  is  never  so  poor  it  will  raise 
nothing.  Give  back  to  it  that  which  we  take  from  it,  and  how 
it  responds. 

A  German  bought  a  worn  out  farm.  He  sowed  rye  and 
ploughed  it  under  and  put  in  a  crop.  He  sowed  rye  again  and 
turned  it  under.  It  was  not  many  years  till  his  land  was  good  and 
paid  him  back  and  was  called  good  land  whereas  wrhen  he  bought  it 
it  was  so  poor  men  refused  it  saying  it  had  no  value.  We 
farmers  plant,  clear  and  plough  under  weeds,  trash,  clover, 
vetch,  cow  peas  and  all  sorts  of  things;  we  bring  these  things 
to  the  soil  and  old  Nature  helps  us;  she  yields  her  secrets  if 
we  care  enough  to  hunt  for  them,  and  soon  with  sun  and  dew 
and  light  and  air  the  earth  responds  to  our  bidding  and  blesses 
our  labors.  The  wet  land  responds  when  drained;  the  dry  lands 
yield  beautiful  harvests  when  cultured  right;  the  alkali  lands 
raising  sage  brush  and  weeds  yield  up  their  stubborn  mood  when 
the  irrigating  ditches  deluge  them  with  water.  There  is  a  spirit 
in  it  all  as  well  as  a  labor,  and  man,  the  wise  farmer  can,  always 
conquer  Mother  Nature,  till  she  smiles  on  him  with  abundant 
harvests.  There  seems  no  end  to  her  power:  Earth  from  2000 
feet  below  the  surface  will  yield  vegitation  if  we  give  it  sub- 
light  and  water.  Life  has  no  end  to  things  of  profound  moment 
from  the  soil  and  the  farmer  is  after  all,  the  greaj;  Land  Lord, 
whose  handmaid  is  the  fertile  earth. 


A  LOVE  STORY  83 


HOW  I  BROKE  UP  THE  SOLID  DEMOCRATIC  TOWNSHIP 
OF  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA. 

In  Effingham  County,  Illinois,  is  a  township  called  Teuto- 
polis  Township.  Its  centre  or  Hub  is  Teutopolis,  or  Town  of 
the  Teutons.  It  was  settled  many  years  ago  by  a  company  of 
Germans  who  came  largely  from  the  peasant  class  of  Oldenburg, 
Germany.  They  came  to  this  place  via  Ohio.  They  were  de- 
voted Catholics  and  soon  established  a  Church  and  School  in  a 
log  house.  Later  on  they  built  a  large  brick  Church  with  am- 
ple grounds,  and  a  boys  School,  with  a  Monastery  for  the  Fran- 
ciscan Monks,  who  had  the  services  of  the  Church  and  the 
School  for  boys  attached,  in  charge.  The  School  once  took  in 
pupils  of  a  general  class;  they  have  a  great  Cathedral  a 
Monastery,  a  School  by  Franciscans  but  it  is  now  occupied  in 
training  young  men  for  the  priesthood  who  come  from  Europe. 
The  town  is  small,  but  the  whole  township  is  well  to  do  and  the 
Church  and  School  is  very  prosperous. 

The  political  color  of  the  township  is  Democratic  and  it  was 
their  proud  boast  that  this  was  '  'The  Solid  Democratic  Town- 
ship of  the  United  States  of  America".  There  was  not  a  single 
individual  in  the  township  but  what  claimed  he  was  a  Demo- 
crat. The  political  color  of  our  Country  for  a  number  of  years 
had  been  Republican,  and  it  was  a  great  thorn  in  the  flesh  of 
that  party  that  Teutopolis  township  had  a  democratic  postmas- 
ter. There' was  not  a  single  republican  to  make  a  postmaster 
out  of.  There  had  never  been  a  republican  meeting  in  the  town- 
ship, and  in  fact,  I  think  there  had  never  been  any  kind  of  meet- 
ing religious  or  political  except  Catholic  and  Democrat.  The 
Democrats  always  held  campaign  meetings  there,  to  pat  the 
faithful  on  the  back,  and  encourage  them  to  keep  the  township 
solid  for  the  dear  old  Democracy.  My  Father  was  a  Democrat 
and  my  husband  had  been,  but  I  was  a  Prohibitionist,  and  as 
County  President  of  the  W.  C.  T.  U. ,  I  decided  to  hold  a  tem- 
perance meeting  in  Teutopolis,  Teutopolis  Township,  Effingham 
County,  Illinois.  The  town  and  township  was  good  and  solid 
for  saloons  (and  is  yet)  though  there  are  some  good  temper- 
ance friends  there  now.  I  had  divers  warnings  that  I  was  pok- 


84  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

my  head  into  a  lion's  mouth  to  go  to  Teutopolis,  but  I  said  "I'll 
go  over".  Our  Teacher's  Institute  was  on,  and  I  invited  a  num- 
ber of  young  people  who  were  zealous  for  temperance  to  go 
along.  We  had  a  big  farm  wagon  rigged  up  with  mules  and 
driver  as  motive  power,  and  we  could  carry  20  passengers,  also 
we  had  three  buggies,  and  away  we  went.  We  took  a  board 
along  to  nail  to  the  side  of  our  wagon  for  our  gas  lamp,  for  we 
did  not  feel  free  to  ask  any  favors.  We  swung  the  stars  and 
stripes  over  our  heads,  a  fine  new  ten  foot  flag.  We  drove  be- 
fore the  Monastery  and  began  to  sing.  It  happened  to  have 
been  a  great  holiday  and  many  of  the  people  staid'  to  see  the 
fun,  for  they  took  us  as  a  huge  joke.  We  sang,  we  prayed,  we 
read  in  the  Bible,  we  talked,  we  distributed  literature,  we  joked 
with  the  crowd,  for  the  Germans  are  great  jokers,  we  gave 
pretty  cards  to  the  children.  One  big  fellow  got  a  bottle  of 
whiskey,  tied  a  blue  ribbon  on  it  and,  calling  everybody's  at- 
tention to  it,  said  "Look",  and  drank.  Everybody  laughed, 
but  our  driver,  who  had  been  a  policeman,  scared  the  boy  off. 
Another  big  fellow  who  had  a  good  ear  for  music  "bummbeled" 
bass  to  everything  we  sang,  and  played  the  fiddle  with  his  two 
arms  for  an  instrument;  the  crowd  made  merry  and  we  took  it 
in  good  part  so  that  when  we  left  we  heard  many  cries,  "Come 
again,  come  again,  Good-bye".  It  was  a  surprise  to  some  of 
the  Effinghamers  who  almost  laid  awake  that  night  expecting 
to  get  a  brand  new  sensation,  it  was  supposed  we  would  be  as- 
saulted. Well,  they  got  one  sure  enough,  for  we  had  done  what 
most  of  the  people  considered  impossible.  Some  of  the  Republic  - 
ans  gathered  to-gether  and  said,  Well,  if  "Mrs.  Kepley"  and  her 
gang  can  have  a  meeting  in  Teutopolis  I  guess  we  can  too".  Oh, 
how  they  did  want  a  Republican  postmaster  in  Teutopolis.  Well, 
the  good  Republicans  all  "shelled  out",  they  hired  a  train  and 
took  everyone  who  wanted  to  go  free,  hired  a  band,  secured  a 
number  of  their  "Big  Guns"  to  speak,  and  announced  and  held 
a  Republican  meeting  in  the  Solid  Democratic  Township  of  the 
United  States  of  America.  From  what  I  heard  they  had  a 
howling  (good)  time,  but  they  had  a  gang  of  big  railroad  men 
along  to  keep  such  order  as  they  could,  out  of  that  scandalized 
community.  Later  in  the  Fall  there  was  a  general  election  and 
when  the  ballots  were  counted,  dreadful  to  relate  there  was 


A  LOVE  STORY  85 

found  eight  Republican  ballots,  and  one  Prohibition  ballot,  and  the 
solid  Democratic  Township  of  the  United  States  of  America  was 
no  more,  and  it's  been  broke  up  ever  since.  The  Republicans 
got  a  postmaster,  and  have  one  now.  Of  their  trials  and  tribu- 
lations I  will  not  tell.  Suffice  it  to  say,  I  planned  and  carried 
out  the  initial  meeting;  I  made  the  break.  But  the  unkindest 
cut  of  all  was  when  some  one,  a  zealous  republican,  called  me 
a  Democrat"  after  I'd  got  them  what  they  wanted,  for  if  I  had 
not  made  the  break  that  they  rushed  in  through,  that  township 
would  have  been  solidly  Democratic  yet.  It  is  largely  a  farm- 
ing Community  and  they  are  not  fickle  minded;  they  move  and 
think  strenuously,  and  so  as  all  over  the  land  our  farmers  are 
the  solid  conservative  basis  to  the  Government,  but  no  one 
among  the  whole  of  them  in  Teutopolis  Township  had  pluck 
enough  to  be  a  Republican,  till  after  I  held  that  meeting  Au- 
gust 5th,  1887. 


86 


A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


WITH  HOE  AND  TILE  SPADE  AND  CORN  KNIFE. 


CUTTING  WEEDS  WITH  A  CORN  KNIFE. 


I  am  fond  of  manual  work  and  on  the  farm  I  find  I  can  do 
many  things.  I  cannot  plough  or  -cut  trees  or  dig  post  holes  nor 
load  hay,  and  I  am  afraid  to  run  the  reaper,  but  I  can  harrow 
and  drag,  and  drive  horses  and  run  the  hay  rake,  and  I  can  and 
do  like  to  use  the  hoe  and  tile  spade  and  corn  knife  best  of  all 
the  tools.  None  of  these  tools  require  the  use  of  the  strong 
lifting  muscles.  I  like  a  heavy  hoe  and  I  can,  when  it  is 
sharpened,  slash  small  brush  wood,  open  ditches,  clean  springs, 
etc.  With  the  tile  spade  I  can  lift  and  pry  and  make  it  do 
work  that  spares  me.  I  never  shovel  with  it.  With  the  corn 
knife  I  cut  bread  and  meat.  It  spares  my  hands  and  I  get  on 
faster,  saving  time.  I  cut  under  brush  and  small  trees  with  it. 
I  want  these  tools  sharpened  well,  then  I  save  strength  and 
time  and  temper  with  all  of  them.  When  the  men  set  posts 
and  stretch  wire,  or  repair  fences  and  other  work  I  can  clear 


A  LOVE  STORY  87 

out  the  fence  corners  and  bushy  places  with  my  corn  knife. 
The  row  of  evergreens  that  marks  the  road  though  my  farm 
were  lifted,  and  set  out  again  with  the  tile  spade.  I  roam  the 
woods  and  fields  for  evil  weeds  and  then  I  slash  them  with 
good  heart  with  hoe  and  corn  knife.  An  old  farmer  laughed 
when  I  told  him  how  I  cut  saplings  with  a  corn  knife,  said  he 
never  heard  of  such  a  thing.  It's  fine  and  wholesome  too.  I 
can  swing  a  scythe  now  and  was  proud  as  a  peacock  when  I 
learned  how  to  swing  it  so  it  would  cut  things,  and  not  peril  my 
feet  and  shins.  It's  not  easy  to  learn  the  use  of  the  scythe.  I 
got  an  old  Swede  man  who  was  an  expert  to  teach  me.  I  like  to 
saw,  but  the  motion  of  a  saw  disturbs  my  stomach  too  much.  I 
can  hammer  and  nail  with  anybody.  I  have  made  many  of  the 
gates  on  my  farm  and  hung  them  after  the  men  set  the  posts, 
and  I  can  make  good  gates  too.  I  hate  a  heavy  old  sagger  of  a 
gate  that  nearly  kills  one  to  open  it  and  I  despise  to  get  over  a 
barb  or  woven  wire  fence.  So  I've  about  forty  gates  all  told 
on  my  place,  quite  an  extravagance.  Not  to  me,  for  it  saves 
my  strength  and  temper.  I  like  the  hoe,  tile  spade  and  corn 
knife  best  of  all  the  tools.  The  hammer  and  hatchet  and  prun- 
ing shears  I  like  too;  but  I  like  the  corn  knife  and  tile  spade 
and  hoe  best  of  all  the  tools  on  the  farm. 


88  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

THE  WEATHER  MAN,  MR.  GROUNDHOG. 

Did  you  ever  see  the  weather  man,  Mr.  Groundhog?  Well, 
he  lives  on  my  farm  with  a  lot  of  his  family,  and  I  treat  them 
all  well  though  they  do  not  always  fix  the  weather  to  suit  me. 

There  is  one  place,  a  deep  rocky  ravine  with  such  nice  places 
to  burrow  under  the  rocks,  and  mossy  banks  and  ferns  and 
lovely  trees,  and  a  spring  is  near  by,  where  he  has  a  safe  re- 
treat and  home.  I  do  not  bother  or  allow  him  to  be  disturbed. 
There  is  grass  and  nuts,  and  corn  in  the  fields  near  by,  and 
clover,  handy,  and  I  make  the  woodchuck  welcome  to  what  he 
wants.  Some  of  the  children  who  have  had  time  to  watch, 
have  told  me  they  have  seen  the  young  woodchucks  come  out 
of  the  rocks,  and  romp  and  play  together  and  with  the  older 
ones.  The  dogs  make  regular  visits  to  that  ravine  and  dig  and 
watch  and  scream  and  yell,  and  wear  their  claws  off  trying  to 
scratch  out  woodchucks.  The  excitement  and  labor  wears  the 
flesh  off  the  dogs  too.  We  laugh  to  hear  them,  but  no  one  hisses 
them  on,  and  no  one  helps  them,  and  I  think  the  woochucks 
make  a  joke  of  the  whole  thing. 

I  once  went  along  that  way  with  the  dogs  and  they  hap- 
pened to  be  thinking  of  rabbits.  I  saw  a  groundhog  go  rolling 
up  the  hill  with  his  funny  wallow;  the  dogs  did  not  see  him  and 
I  did  not  tell  them,  and  my  weather  man  was  soon  out  of  sight. 
I  called  "Good  luck"  and  "good  hunting"  to  him  as  he  hurried 
off. 

Sometimes  I  see  where  they  burrow  great  holes  in  my 
meadows.  I  do  not  like  that;  I  fear  for  the  horses  legs,  but  I 
stick  something  in  the  hole  and  they  can  burrow  out  some 
other  way,  and  as  that  is  easy  for  them  to  do  with  their  strong 
claws  and  legs,  I  do  not  worry. 

I  once  found  a  half  grown  chuck,  with  his  toes  turned  up 
stark  dead;  his  happy  life  gone  out  I  felt  sorry.  I  do  not  allow 
them  hunted  or  killed  on  my  farm. 

One  day  I  went  to  a  bottom  field,  and  on  a  rail  fence  the 
dogs  discovered  a  woodchuck  taking  a  morning  parade.  They 
got  him  off  the  fence,  or  he  got  rattled  and  jumped  off.  I 
yelled  to  the  men  to  save  him,  but  they  preferred  the  dogs 
should  finish  him.  So  I  made  a  dive  and  got  the  "chuck"  by  his 


A  LOVE  STORY  89 

tail;  his  teeth  were  awful  but  I  had  on  thick  leather  gloves.  I 
was  obliged  to  hold  him  high  up  and  away  from  me  for  fear 
he'd  get  hold  of  and  gnaw  me.  The  dogs  were  crazy  and  would 
not  mind,  so  I  yelled  and  kicked  them,  with  the  heavy  boots  I 
had  on.  The  woodchuck  wriggled,  he  was  heavy;  the  dogs  got 
him  again;  then  I  got  him.  Meantime  we  had  come  near  the 
creek  bank,  and  "chuckie"  wriggled  loose  again;  how  he  ran. 
It  was  for  dear  life.  The  dogs  were  in  hot  pursuit,  but,  good 
luck,  he  found  a  hole  in  the  bank  and  in  he  went  like  a  flash, 
and  the  dogs  screamed  and  howled  outside,  the  weather  man 
had  escaped.  The  dogs  had  some  gashes  and  scratches;  I  had 
kicked  them,  too;  the  chuck  had  been  bitten  and  mauled.  We 
had  all  had  exercise  enough  to  last  us  for  a  day  or  more.  We 
had  all  had  a  glorious  rumpus. 

I  knew  two  ground-hogs  who  were  taken  young  and  brought 
to  town  to  live.  They  made  their  living  begging  nuts  and  were 
interesting  pets  to  everybody.  The  town  dogs  were  so  anxious 
to  catch  them,  but  did  not  dare  to  attempt  it;  they  were  too  well 
instructed  as  to  consequences;  besides,  everybody  had  a  kindly 
eye  and  friendly  hand  for  the  little  fellows.  When  winter 
came  they  hibernated  under  a  big  barn.  Then  one  was  gone 
and  later  the  other  disappeared,  probably  the  call  of  the  woods 
and  the  fields,  and  of  their  kinsfolks  came  to  them  and  they 
left;  maybe  the  weather  needed  attention  and  they  could  not 
stay;  anyhow,  they  were  gone,  but  they  left  a  pleasant  memory 
behind  them  of  gentleness  and  cunning  ways.  Everybody  was 
pleased  with  the  little  weather  man,  the  woodchuck  or  ground- 
hog. 


90  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

THE  SILO. 

The  Silo  is  a  big  tub  that  is  filled  with  finely  chopped  corn, 
cowpeas,  cane  or  clover;  it  is  made  of  wood,  cement  or  tiles.  In 
cold  countries  apples,  potatoes,  and  turnips  are  chopped  and 
turned  into  it  to  make  a  vegetable  kraut,  the  whole  of  which  we 
call  "Ensilage"  and  is  used  for  all  sorts  of  farm  stock.  The 
Silo  originated  with  the  Dairy,  and  has  come  to  stay,  in  spite  of 
many  things  said  against  it.  Sometimes  the  Silos  hold  80-100 
or  200  tons  of  this  chopped  corn  &c  called  "Ensilage".  Corn 
should  be  cut  in  the  fields  as  late  as  possible,  hauled  to  the 
cutter  and  then  chopped  in  small  bits  1-4  to  1-2  inch  in  length, 
then  blown  into  the  big  cask  maybe  18,  24  or  30  feet  high,  by  the 
blower.  It  must  be  tramped  down  good  and  hard  by  the  feet 
of  men,  and  if  it  is  very  dry,  water  should  be  poured  upon  it  and 
it  will  keep  indefinitely.  It  is  a  festival  time  when  the  Silo  is 
filled,  and  the  neighbors  go  from  farm  to  farm  to  help  each 
other,  cutting  the  corn  in  the  field,  hauling  it  in,  running  the 
engine  and  the  cutter,  and  then  tramping.  Dairy  cows  do 
their  very  best  fed  on  it,  and  the  other  stock  thrives  on  it;  pigs 
and  sheep  love  "silage",  and  the  hens  produce  more  eggs  when 
they  can  have  it.  The  Silo  is  a  great  Institution  for  the  farmer, 
and  it  has  come  to  stay-  some  farmers  have  two  or  three,  and 
in  the  dry  time  in  August,  feed  the  same  as  in  winter.  I  own 
one  that  holds  100  tons;  I'd  like  another  some  day. 


A  LOVE  STORY  91 


'  'Buz-z-z  —  This  is  the  song  of  the  bee.  His  legs  are  all  yellow, 
a  jolly  good  fellow  and  yet  a  fine  worker  is  he."  — Old  Song. 

Oh  honey,  honey  Bee; 

Feeder  of  the  Gods, 

Feeder  of  men ; 

Transmuter  of  the  rose  to  nectar; 

Obedient  to  the  She; 

The  miracle  of  form; 

The  mystery  of  birth; 

The  life  in  death,  and  death  in  life, 

Are  all  in  thee,  oh  honey,  honey  Bee. 

.  I  bought  me  some  bees  for,  from  the  time  the  first  leaf 
opens  on  the  trees,  and  buds  and  blossoms  come  out,  till  the 
last  belated  weed  and  flower  blossoms  in  the  fall,  there  is  ample 
food  for  them.  The  buds  of  the  trees  swell,  become  full  of 
pollen,  and  later  on  every  plant  and  tree  has  sweetness  in  its 
heart.  In  the  sarvice  berry,  red  bud,  dogwood,  wild  cherry, 
linden,  apple,  peach  and  plum  trees,  and  strawberry,  blackberry, 
raspberry  and  grapes,  there  are  scented  treasures,  and  at  the 
heart  of  every  plant  is  sweetness  which  the  bee  by  its  skill  and 
industry  converts  into  food  for  bees,  men  and  animals;  the  bear 
is  crazy  over  honey,  and  the  coon  loves  it  too. 

Some  of  our  bees  do  not  allow  us  to  cross  their  runs  without 
protest,  which  usually  comes  in  the  shape  of  an  angry  "bat", 
and  the  bee  leaves  his  stinger  behind  in  some  one's  flesh,  and 
how  it  hurts.  The  only  consolation  is  that  the  bee  signed  his 
death  warrant  when  he  stung.  We  had  some  black  fellows  that 
were  awful  to  chase  and  sting  one;  others  were  peaceable  if  let 
alone.  Our  little  black  bees  made  much  honey,  but  when  we 
came  to  get  our  share  "The  Brave",  who  had  boasted  they 
could  handle  bees,  did  not  want  to  enter  in,  when  the  fearful 
bees  were  aroused;  in  spite  of  smokings  with  rags,  we  found 
that  the  stingers  of  the  black  bees  were  active.  But  there  were 
gloves  and  wills,  went  in,  and  so  did  the  bees,  and  we  took  the 


92  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

great  rich  sheets  of  white  honey  from  the  hive;  but  such  screams 
and  yells  as  arose  when  the  bees  got  in  their  work ;  Camanche  In- 
dians could  not  have  excelled  that.  One  hive  was  attended  to 
and  the  rest  left.  That  night  I  put  on  a  thick  suit  and  gloves, 
boots  and  veil,  and  by  the  light  of  the  lantern  I,  who  had  never 
handled  a  bee,  finished  the  task.  One  hive  I  upset,  but  with 
a  shovel  and  a  wheelbarrow  I  managed  to  right  the  hive  and 
gather  up  the  bees.  But  oh,  how  mad  they  were;  I  received 
more  than  one  sting  but  I  secured  the  honey. 

Swarming  was  a  great  time.  Such  beating  of  pans  and 
kettles,  and  throwing  of  dust  and  water  as  was  done  to  settle 
the  swarm.  Sometimes  we  captured  the  swarm,  sometimes 
we  lost  it;  and  sometime  we  got  a  swarm  that  came  from  else- 
where, for  my  woods  were  full  of  bee  trees,  and  they  came  from 
other  farms  and  from  their  hives  in  the  woods. 

Bees  have  enemies,  and  the  moths  and  roaches  came  on 
mine.  I  was  busy  and  could  not  see  to  them  and  they  got  the 
most  of  my  hives;  but  I  still  have  some  and  contemplate  more. 

The  story  of  the  bee  is  a  revelation  and  an  inspiration. 
Blind  Huber  found  enough  in  it  to  fill  a  life  time.  Maeter- 
linck's "Life  of  the  Bee"  opens  a  great  vista  to  the  dullest. 
One  who  lives  on  the  farm  cannot  afford  not  to  keep  bees.  I 
have  learned  to  respect  them,  so  I  do  not  get  stung  very  often. 
They  teach  me  the  beauty  of  order  and  the  marvel  of  the  Uni- 
verse from  the  obedience  of  the  swarm  to  its  Queen,  and  the 
strange  faculty  she  possesses  of  being  at  times,  of  necessity, 
both  male  and  female;  she  is  both  the  father  and  the  mother  of 
her  children.  This  last,  to  a  women,  affords  profound  food  for 
thought.  Could  a  woman  ever  conceive  her  offspring  alone? 
Witcomb  Riley  in  "Fessler's  Bees"  pokes  fun  at  the  man  who 
would  try  to  teach  the  bee  something  out  of  its  order,  and  its 
own  laws. 

On  my  farm  the  bees  have  pre-empted  many  trees  to  their 
uses.  They  seem  to  be  experts  in  finding  cozy  hollows  in 
crotches  and  trunks  of  old  monarchs  of  the  forest,  and  here 
they  set  up  their  lares  and  penates.  They  usually  are  high  up, 
though  now  and  then  some  foolish  bees  select  places  where 
they  may  be  easily  captured  and  robbed.  The  expert  eye  will 
watch  for  and  find  them  as  they  circle  to  and  fro  in  journeys  to 


A  LOVE  STORY  93 

their  tree  top  homes.  Once  it  was  when  the  woods  were  free 
that  who  ever  found  a  bee  tree  claimed  it.  The  coon,  the  pos- 
sum and  the  bear  always  had  a  right  and  took  it,  and  the  bee 
tree  was  a  pioneer  treasure  common  to  all.  When  conservation 
and  other  laws  were  passed  the  bee  tree  was  no  longer  common 
property,  but  some  still  claim  it.  On  my  farm  many  bee  trees 
have  been  cut  by  parties  who  slipped  in  and  broke  the  law  by 
cutting  the  tree  on  another's  land,  to  which  a  penalty  of  $20  to 
the  land  owner  for  his  tree  and  a  settlement  in  indictment  and 
a  fine  with  the  State  is  attached.  But  some  will  break  the  law 
and  cut  bee  trees,  so  powerful  is  the  old  idea  of  the  tree  belong- 
ing to  the  one  who  claims  to  find  it.  Two  men  with  a  cross  cut 
saw,  cut  a  sycamore  two  feet  across  the  butt  and  let  it  fall  in 
my  road,  and  my  men  had  to  clear  it  up  before  we  could  go 
through  the  field  or  plough,  and  I  lost  my  tree.  Some  others 
cut  another  and  left  the  trunk  prone.  Others  cut  one  that  fell 
into  my  creek  and  made  a  dam  that  I  had  to  remove,  or  catch 
all  the  debris  of  the  floods  and  maybe  turn  the  creek  into  a 
field.  Others  were  cut,  but,  though  I  offer  through  the  papers 
good  rewards  and  expound  the  law,  a  tree  will  be  cut  again  and 
I  catch  no  one;  but  some  day  I  will. 

A  neighbor  of  mine  came  running  red  faced  to  me  one  day 
and  said,  Mrs.  Kepley  can  I  cut  that  sycamore  tree  in  the  bot- 
tom, it's  not  much  account  and  I've  got  a  swarm  of  bees  in  it". 
I  looked  at  him  and  said:  "The  big  sycamore"?  "Yes",  hesi- 
tatingly. "Well"  I  replied,  "that  is  a  valuable  tree,  I  was 
offered  $16.  ,a  hundred  feet  for  it  in  the  tree,  if  it  were  not  hol- 
low and  I  would  not  take  it.  That  tree  is  mine,  and  those  bees 
are  mine  too.  If  you  cut  it,  I'd  have  to  put  a  man  at  it  and  it 
would  take  three  days  to  clear  the  ground  of  it,  for  if  the  floods 
came  it  would  float  down  and  smash  my  fences".  I  was  glad 
that  tree  was  where  we  saw  it  every  day,  for  some  would  not 
have  ask  me,  but  it  would  have  been  smashed  down  for  me  to 
cut  up  and  out.  A  man  got  leave  of  me  once  to  cut  a  bee 
tree.  He  was  a  tenant  of  mine  and  said  the  tree  was  "a  little 
no  account  oak".  I  took  his  word  for  it,  but  when  I  later  saw 
that  tree  I  found  it  was  an  immense  oak  that,  when  it  fell, 
seemed  to  me  to  cover  a  quarter  acre  of  ground,  and  that  was 
useless  with  that  tree  sprawled  over  it.  Another  begged  so 


94  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

hard  I  sold  him  a  tree  for  $1.  and  he  was  to  clear  up  the  trash, 
taking  the  trunk  and  piling  the  brush,  The  tree  was  in  a  ra- 
vine, and  it  was  cut,  and  lies  there  yet  for  me  to  clear  up.  I 
have  made  a  law;  no  more  bee  trees  will  I  give  or  sell,  and  if  I 
catch  anyone  cutting  a  tree  I  will  exact  my  $20.  and  the  State's 
Attorney  can  settle  the  rest.  I  will  keep  my  bee  trees  myself. 
I  want  to  raise  more  bees  and  if  I  had  time  I  could  get  all  the 
swarms  I  want  in  my  own  bee  trees. 


A  LOVE  STORY  95 

PLANT  A  TREE. 

'  'He  who  plants  a  tree,  he  plants  hope; 

He  who  plants  a  tree,  he  plants  love.1' — Lucy  Larcom. 

Under  the  greenwood  tree  who  loves  to  lie  with  me, 
And  tune  his  merry  throat  to  a  bird's  sweet  note." 

—Shakespeare. 

My  farm  abounds  in  trees.  I  conserve  them  without  law. 
Some  day  the  laws  of  conservation  will  touch  all  our  timber 
lands  even  on  the  farms.  I  number  as  my  friends  all  the  trees, 
and  so  I  set  some  out  that  I  have  not.  The  Orchard  trees,  we 
all  plant  them.  One  year  I  got  five  apples  from  my  crab  trees; 
how  proud  I  was.  The  next  year  I  got  twenty-five,  and  the 
next  I  picked  two  jars  of  them.  I  said  to  myself,  "I'll  have  a 
peck",  next  year  but  alas,  there  came  that  awful  cold  winter 
and  spring  and  I  hadn't  even  one.  Now  there  will  be  more  and 
more. 

I  set  out  dogwoods,  red  buds,  sassafras,  chestnut,  willows 
and  sarvice  berry  trees,  and  I  have  cedar,  and  white,  and  Aus- 
trian and  other  pine  trees,  and  arborvitae,  in  my  door  yard. 
I  have  seedlings  of  choice  persimmons  and  other  trees  I  set 
about  my  place  and  some  are  up  and  are  higher  then  my  head. 
Yes,  everybody  plant  a  tree  to  enjoy  it. 

The  red  and  green  anch  golden  willows  delight  one  on  the 
autumn  and  winter  landscape,  and  the  verdure  of  the  evergreen 
is  a  charm  against  the  gray  and  cold  and  snow  of  winter  days. 
The  blooming  of  the  trees  is  a  joy  to  me.  I  feast  myself  upon 
the  varied  beauty  and  majesty  and  dignity  of  their  characters. 
Let's  plant  a  tree. 

"Woodman  spare  that  tree".  My  Father  used  to  take  hi& 
children,  as  they  grew 'from  babyhood,  upon  his  knee  and  sing 
a  song  to  them.  It  ran:  — 

"Oh  come  to  the  old  oak  tree,  where  the  coon  and  the  Pos- 
sum prance, 

Oh  come  to  the  old  oak  tree  and  join  in  the  jovial  dance. 

The  coon  he  is  above  us,  his  nest  is  in  the  tree, 

We  know  that  he  don't  love  us,  but  fond  of  him  are  we, 

So  come  to  the  old  oak  tree,  where  the  coon  and  the  pos- 
sum prance, 


96  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

Oh,  come  to  the  old  oak  tree,  and  join  in  the  jovial  dance." 

I  never  saw  a  child  who  was  not  quieted  by  the  song  of 
the  old  oak  tree  as  my  Father  sang  it  and  trotted  the  little  one 
on  his  knee. 

When  the  winds  blow  in  a  tree  we  hear  the  sounds  of  the 
sea.  When  the  wind  roars  in  my  trees  I  think  of  Byron's 
lines— "Man  marks  the  earth  with  ruin;  his  control  stops  with 
the  shore.  Upon  the  watery  plain,  the  wrecks  are  all  thy  deed ; 
nor  doth  remain  a  shadow  of  man's  ravage  but  his  own. 
When  for  a  moment  like  a  drop  of  rain  he  sinks  into  thy  watery 
depths  with  bubbling  groan,  without  a  grave,  unknelled,  un- 
coffined  and  unknown".  And  the  moan  and  groan  and  the 
swash  of  the  sea  is  in  my  trees.  When  the  storm  winds  shake 
and  twist  the  great  trees,  and  now  and  then  uproot  them,  I  am 
reminded  of  my  inconsequence.  I  wonder  how  the  trees  on 
the  hillsides  learn  to  throw  out  roots  shaped  like  a  great 
hand  and  grasp  the  soil  to  hold  against  the  storms.  It  seems 
as  if  they  know  just  how  to  beat  the  elements  like  the  wild 
creatures  that  adjust  their  burrows  and  coats  to  meet  a  cold, 
chill  winter  coming.  Like  the  corn  that  clothes  itself  in  husks 
that  indicate  the  hardness  of  the  winter  soon  to  be  on  hand, 
sometimes  a  tree  will  build  a  great  mound  about  its  roots.  It 
feels  a  break  in  its  heart  and  so  it  prepares  to  weather  that 
weakness  so  long  as  it  can.  The  trees  know  too,  as  all  things 
natural  do. 

^specially  I  love  my  walnut  trees,  of  which  I  have  a  many. 
They  send  their  tap  roots  deep  down  in  the  dark,  cold  earth; 
their  frond  like  tops  tower  into  the  warm  blue  sky.  I  love  the  bit- 
ter sweet  aroma  of  the  leaves  and  nuts.  I  am  fond  of  the  rich, 
sweet  kernels  of  the  nuts  they  bring,  and  in  whose  cups  is 
never  found  a  worm,  and  that  will  keep  sweet  as  long  as  they 
are  kept  dry  after  proper  curing.  I  know  of  no  other  nut  of 
which  this  can  be  said.  The  blue  grass  loves  to  grow  beneath 
the  walnut  trees,  and  one  may  always  find  a  carpet  of  it  under 
them,  if  the  soil  is  not  disturbed  by  cultivation.  The  foliage  is 
not  dense  and  one  may  lie  under  a  walnut  tree  in  ease,  and  gaze 
upward  to  the  sky  to  hearts  content,  invigorated  by  the  fra- 
grance of  the  tree. 


A  LOVE  STORY  97 

THE  WALNUT  TREE. 

Deep  down  thy  roots  do  run 
And  tap  the  sweets  that  mother  earth  has  hid 

Within  her  gracious  breast, 
Vigor,  sweets,  oil,  meat,  rich  perfume. 

The  children  in  the  happy  Autumn  time 
All  riotous  with  freedom  and  with  joy, 

Garner  thy  fruits  and  cure  them 

For  the  winter's  fun  and  frolic  by  the  fire. 

Frond-like  and  beautiful  thy  branches  turn, 
Up  to  the  sun  and  sky  and  rain  and  dew, 

Exhaling  as  in  thanks  a  wholesome  draft  of  fragrance, 
That  comforts  me  and  makes  me  glad. 

I  would  my  friends  were  sweet  at  heart  as  thee, 

And  changeless  in  their  best  as  thou, 

And  that  their  lives  might  bless  all  whom  their  shadows 
touch, 

As  thou  the  earth  thou  wavest  above. 


98  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

THE  BOSS.  , 

A  women  who  had  been  married  and  divorced  twice  once 
said  to  me,  after  I  became  a  farmer,  and  my  own  boss,  '  'How 
do  you  get  the  men  to  mind,  who  work  for  you"?  "Well",  I 
said  "I  treat  them  like  gentleman  and  I  pay  them,  and  I  do  not 
have  much  trouble.  Sometimes  I  have  as  many  as  a  dozen  men 
at  work;  sometimes  less.  At  haying,  threshing,  shredding,  at 
silo  filling,  timber  cutting,  farming  generally,  and  other  work 
I  have  a  number,  but  I  try  not  to  be  "bossy",  I  do  not  "jaw". 
I  praise  when  it  is  deservable;  I  do  not  find  fault.  If  a  farm 
helper  is  not  desirable  we  soon  part  company,  somehow  or 
other.  If  any  matter  arises  of  a  serious  nature  I  call  my  lawyer 
in  and  give  him  instructions  to  get  a  settlement. 

A  woman  is  foolish  who  has  contention  with  a  contrary 
man.  Sometimes  when  we  have  a  task  that  is  out  of  the  com- 
mon, we  all  have  a  lively  time,  we  exercise  our  lungs  and  free 
our  minds  of  our  special  notions,  then  we  sift  the  evidence,  ad- 
judicate things  and  go  at  the  task  which  usually  comes  out  all 
right. 

"The  Boss"  needs  to  be  polite,  treat  everybody  as  a  gen- 
tleman or  lady,  be  appreciative,  and  pay  the  bills,  and  he  or  she 
will  have  little  trouble, 


A  LOVE  STORY  99 

OUR  HORSES. 


DAN  AND   DON  READY  TO  HARROW. 

"I  will  not  change  my  horse  with  anything  that  treads  but  on 
four  pasterns.  He  bounds  from  the  earth;  when  I  bestride  him,  I 
soar,  lam  a  hawk;  he  trots  the  air;  the  earth  sings  when  he 
touches  it;  the  basest  horn  of  his  hoof  is  more  musical  than  the 
pipe  of  Hermes" .— Henry  V. 

In  spite  of  steam  and  electricity  the  horse  still  remains  our 
mainstay  on  the  farm,  and  doubtless  ever  will.  "With  the  will 
of  the  wild  horse  subdued  and  bred  on  and  up,  it  appears  in  as 
many  varied  forms  as  the  dog  to  help  man.  We  breed  the  racer, 
coach,  cob,  Percheron,  Shire,  Clyde,  Hambletonian,  Kentuckian, 
Western,  Welsh  and  Russian  ponies  and  the  toy  Shetland.  After 
all  it  is  the  mongrel  horse,  like  the  mongrel  dog  upon  which  we 
most  depend. 

The  wild  will  of  the  horse  is  subdued  to  the  will  of  man;  it 
is  counted  the  best  horse  who  is  most  obedient  to  his  Master's 
will.  With  no  independence  of  will  the  horse  is  often  reviled 
for  stupidity.  With  a  bit  in  his  mouth,  and  a  whip  and  a  man  be- 
hind him,  he  must  either  go,  or  like  Peter's  donkey,  jump  up  and 
down.  A  certain  man  made  a  wager.  He  said,  "I  will  ride 
my  horse  to  a  cross  roads  and,  without  a  sign  to  him  of  any 
kind,  he  will  take  the  road  I  will  him  to  go,  and  it  was  true;  so 


100  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

subtle  is  the  Master's  will  to  govern  the  faithful  brute.  My 
brother  told  me  he  owned  a  horse  who  would  suffer  extreme 
punishment  rather  than  obey  a  certain  man  he  hired;  but  an- 
other of  his  men  could  take  the  same  horse  and  get  more  work 
out  of  him  than  any  animal  he  used.  The  spirit  of  this  horse 
was  high;  he  hated  a  cruel  and  unjust  mind,  and  the  same  spirit 
arose  in  him  as  was  in  the  driver. 

I  once  rode  with  a  Danish  farmer  who  drove  a  spirited  span 
of  mules.  I  said,  "Do  these  mules  ever  run  off"?  He  laughed 
and  said,  "Oh  yes".  "What  do  you  do"?  "Oh,  I  keep  right 
still  so  they  will  not  know  how  scared  I  am".  Many  precipitate 
runaways  by  fright  and  fear  of  a  horse.  The  less  of  will  in 
the  driver,  the  less  of  will  in  the  horse. 

I  have  driven  many  horses,  by  night  and  by  day,  and  have 
never  met  with  any  serious  accidents  though  in  two  runaways. 
I  have  a  wholesome  fear  of  horses  but  I  love  them,  and  I  make 
it  a  rule  to  treat  them  with  kindness  and  respect  and  keep  my 
wits  about  me.  I  have  had  dear  and  loving  and  faithful  friends 
among  my  horses.  Nellie  and  Tony  and  Ruby  and  Charlie  and 
Dan  and  Don  have  been  my  tried  and  trusty  friends.  Snip  and 
old  Jerry,  have  been  our  trusty  servants  a  long  time.  Nellie,  a 
bright  bay,  gentle  and  trusty,  could  turn  and  twist  a  buggy 
like  a  man.  She  was  never  owned  but  by  three  people  and 
everybody  loved  her.  She  rests  now,  good  girl,  and  "Snippie" 
and  Charlie  are  done  with  labor  too. 

Tony  was  a  dappled  gray  that  was  straddled 
and  ridden  by  the  boys  from  a  colt,  but  he  was 
hardy  and  as  good  as  could  be,  and  he  had  but  two 
owners.     He  now  rests  from  his  labors  on  my  farm. 
He  had  not  such  good  brain  power  as  Nellie,  but  he 
was  true  and  affectionate.    He  had  a  way  of  pre- 
tending he  was  scared  and  he'd  tip  toe  sideways; 
making  believe  he  was  going  to  do  something  bad, 
but  he  never  did.     He  had  a  pretty  fashion  of  tak- 
TONY       jng  me  by  the  sleeve,  placing  his  head  against  my 
breast  and  whispering  to  me.     My  husband  used  often  to  say  he 
made  love  to  me,  and  he  did  try  to  tell  his  affection. 

Dan  and  Don,  my  two  blacks,  are  aged  alike,  but  Dan  is 
boss  and  Don  minds.     Dannie  orders  all  the  horses  he  is  hitched 


A  LOVE  STORY  101 

with,  by  nips  and  head  shakings  and  teeth  showing,  and  some- 
times by  a  little  foot  shaking.  I  can  trust  Dannie  to  the  last 
notch.  When  I  drive  him  about,  he  minds  me  to  the  last.  When 
I  drive  Don  about,  he  makes  me  mind.  If  he  wants  to  hurry 
down  a  hill  he  will,  no  matter  if  I  bounce  almost  out,  or  lose  my 
whip,  or  am  riled  in  temper;  he  goes  his  own  gait.  I  can  drive 
Danny  and  rest;  when  I  drive  Don  I'm  good  and  tired.  Dannie 
can  open  stall  doors  and  gates  with  lips  and  head  and  heels;  he 
generally  gets  through  and  he  is  full  of  sly  wisdom.  Don  is 
of  race  stock,  and  if  he  had  not  implicit  confidence  in  Dan,  I 
would  have  had  trouble  when  I  drove  them.  Race  horses  are 
spoiled  as  a  rule  and  their  progeny  is  apt  to  be  contrary.  When 
Don  gets  scared,  or  thinks  he  is,  Dannie  is  as  cool  as  a  summer 
day,  and  Don  concludes  things  are  all  right  and  behaves.  Don 
is  mean  to  new  horses,  biting  and  kicking  them;  Dannie  is  kind. 
When  I  bring  these  two  good  friends  in  from  a  trip  they  look  at 
me  so  kindly  and  expectantly  and  I  pat  their  pretty  heads  and 
thank  them,  and  I  ask  God  to  bless  these  faithful  friends  of 
mine.  A  man  to  whom  I  told  this  once,  said,  "Do  you  think  they 
understand"?  Of  course  they  do,  and  they  love  me  for  it.  I 
feel  for  them,  for  horses  have  a  hard  life  at  best,  and  they 
know  it. 

Old  Jerry  is  a  big  bay  mongrel,  stout  enough  to  pull  great 
loads,  and  willing,  but  he  has  his  troubles  by  being  hitched  to 
horses  who  can't  pull  even,  with  him. 

Snip  was  a  splendid  fellow,  black  and  handsome,  and  a 
goer.  He  was  the  horse  the  boys  lashed  up  hill  and  down  and 
worked  out  of  hours;  he  was  handsome  and  high  spirited  to  the 
last.  Now  he  rests  forever.  We  never  sell  an  old  horse;  we 
never  destroy  one;  we  share  what  they  helped  us  earn  until 
they  get  their  call.  Four  passed  quickly  and  with  little  suffer- 
ing. I  trust  the  others  will  go  that  way— dear,  kind  friends  who 
served  us  all  the  years. 

Joker  and  Jo,  my  big  young  team,  are  bright  bay,  and 
kind.  They  know  me  well,  though  new  to  the  place.  With 
kindness  and  firmness  the  horse  is  our  faithful  friend,  and  I 
want  my  horses  to  be  my  friends.  We  cannot  do  without  them. 
They  are  good  to  us  if  we  are  good  to  them.  We  are  the  only 
God  they  know,  and  we  serve  God  by  being  faithful  to  them. 


102  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

FLOWER  GOWNS. 

I  can  take  the  Madonna  Lily  and,  as  I  study  it,  I  fashion  a 
lovely  gown;  it  must  be  purest  white  and  of  satin,  but  it 
must  also  have  the  cool  shimmer  of  ice  upon  it.  So  I  find 
me  lovely  chrystal  beads  and  drape  it,  and  trim  both  sleeves 
and  waist.  Upon  the  breast  just  where  the  satin  lies  across 
the  heart  I  see  a  fluffy  bow  of  yellow  must  be  placed  to  simulate 
the  lily's  golden  heart;  and  here  and  there  I  tuck  some  shining 
pieces  of  green  silk  that  shall  suggest  the  lily's  leaves  and 
stem.  Around  my  lady's  neck  a  strand  of  emeralds  must  be 
placed,  and  on  her  hair,  a  little  cap  or  bow  of  green  must  rest 
to  simulate  the  Lily's  cup  and  stem,  and  chrystal  beads  must  trim 
it.  The  heart  is  the  chalice  of  the  soul,  and  the  golden  fluff 
that  rests  over  it  is  the  lily's  heart  suggested,  and  the  lady 
wears  her  Lily  Gown  and  all  admire.  I  scent  it  with  the  lily's 
odor  and  then  it  is  complete. 

And  now  I  take  a  Rose— a  red,  red  rose— so  soft  and  sweet 
and  fluffy  with  leaf  on  leaf.  I  use  some  silk  to  match  the  rose  and 
fluff  it  softly  and  drape  my  lady  with  it.  Perhaps  she  needs  a 
tiny  bit  of  yellow  silk  tucked  in  her  belt:  and  on  her  head  she 
too  must  have  a  cap,  of  green  or  bronze,  and  deep  red  roses  all 
have  bronzy  leaves;  and  everywhere  she  can  she  must  place  red 
velvet  of  a  darker  hue  to  make  her  rose  gown  true.  Now  take 
the  rubies  red,  and  drape  her  slender  neck  and  wrists;  then 
bring  rose  odors  and  perfume  her  garment  through  and  through, 
and  then  her  gown  is  done,  except  a  ruby  ring  to  set  it  off. 

And  shall  I  make  a  Pansy  gown?  Well,  fetch  me  purple 
stuffs  of  varied  hues,  all  velvet,  rich  dark  purple  up  to  violet,  so 
pale  it  is  almost  white,  and  out  of  this  we  can  fashion  a  gown 
that  is  fit  to  clothe  a  Queen.  With  royal  purple  make  the  gown, 
the  peplum  out  of  lighter  hues  shall  be,  and  the  waist  of  varied 
hues  of  violet.  Make  a  girdle  of  rich  gold ;  now  hang  pale  ame- 
thysts upon  the  lady's  neck  and  on  her  brow;  then  on  her  slender 
finger  place  a  ring  that's  violet  hued,  and  let  her  cap  be  green 
and  gold  and  soft  white  velvet  mixed,  and  call  the  pansies  in 
to  bring  their  sweet  perfume,  and  this  robe  is  complete. 

So  if  we  would,  we  could  run  the  garden  through,  and  get 
all  sorts  of  patterns  for  our  gowns  and  hats  and  shoes  and 


A  LOVE  STORY  103 

gloves,  and  jewels  too.  I  think  the  butterflies  would  trail  such 
garments  for  their  sweets,  and  hearts  and  minds  would  grow 
like  flowers  too. 


THE  LEAF  WAGON. 

On  my  farm  we  have  so  many  splendid  leaves.  We  do  not 
burn  them;  we  gather  many,  and  throw  them  in  fields  and 
plough  them  under.  We  use  them  in  the  chicken  house.  We 
bed  pigs  and  cattle  with  them  often.  I  needed  something  to 
gather  them  in,  so  I  bought  the  running  gears  of  an  old  surry, 
using  two  light  2x4  studs  to  make  the  foundation  for  a  long 
bed  which  was  floored  upon  the  two  pieces.  I  had  six  good 
big  holes  bored  in  the  four  corners  and  between,  and  in  these 
we  stuck  tall  hickory  saplings,  cut  off,  trimmed  and  sharpened; 
around,  and  to  these  we  stapled  six  foot  chicken  wire  and  fas- 
tened it  to  the  bed.  Hitching  a  horse  to  this,  we  gathered  the 
leaves  and  often  piled  it  to  the  top.  The  rear  was  left  open, 
but  the  wire  swung  so  we  could  use  it  as  a  door.  We  gather 
the  leaves  in  large  clothes  baskets,  throw  them  in  and  press 
and  push  them  until  we  have  a  solid  mass  to  haul  in.  I  love  to 
drag  great  armsfull  of  sweet,  clean  leaves  into  the  basket  and 
press  them  hard,  then  carry  and  dump  them  in  my  leaf  wagon. 
I  love  in  fall  and  on  dry  winter  days  to  walk  among  the  leaves 
and  kick  them  with  my  feet  and  hear  them  rustle  and  see  them 
fly.  We  always  said  the  cattle  slept  well  and  had  festivals 
when  they  had  a  new  supply  of  fresh  leaves.  All  around  child- 
ren and  women  will  find  it  pleasing  and  clean  work  to  gather 
leaves,  and  if  everybody  who  has  leaves  had  a  leaf  wagon,  more 
leaves  would  be  gathered  and  made  use  of  for  all  sorts  of  pur- 
poses, and  health  would  invigorate  those  who  gather  and  haul 
them  in.  A  leaf  wagon  is  a  good  tool  to  use  on  the  farm  and  a 
source  of  pleasure  as  well  as  of  usefulness. 


104 


A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


"WATER?  WATER  EVERYWHERE  AND   NOT   A   DROP  TO 

DRINK." 


THE  WELL. 

There  was  water  galore  on  my  farm,  but  it  was  not  near 
the  houses,  and  the  water  was  hauled  till  I  was  weary  of  it. 
Everybody  likes  good  drinking  water  cool  and  near  anyway.  I 
contemplated  a  well  on  the  upland  near  the  houses.  The  water 
we  had  was  in  fine  springs  but  in  the  glens  and  ravines.  Every- 
body scoffed  and  said  "You  can't  get  water  on  that  hill",  and  I 
heard  all  the  yarns  from  far  and  near  of  the  folly  of  expecting 
water  on  the  top  of  a  hill  where  the  land  dipped  down  to  the 
river  and  the  creek.  I  had  investigated  gas  engines,  and  hy- 
draulic rams  to  no  good,  to  raise  the  water  from  the  springs.  I 
had  a  neighbor  near  by  who  had  a  hole  seventy  feet  deep  and 
it  was,  and  is  yet,  "as  dry  as  a  bone"  he  said;  and  he  sang  a 
song  all  the  time  to  me  of  the  certainty  of  that  well  I  wanted 
being  a  dry  one.  It  is  a  true  a  few  hills  yield  water,  but  every- 
thing was  against  it,  and  some  laughed  and  joked  me  for  think- 
ing of  doing  such  a  foolish  thing  as  digging  a  well  on  a  hill. 

Well,  I  got  a  man  and  his  outfit,  and  he  said  he  had  never 
failed  on  a  well;  he  "witched  'em.  Well  he  witched  with  his 
peach  limbs  and  said  "it  drawed  so"  it  mighty  near  skinned 
the  twigs,  and  skinned  his  hands,  and  water  was  to  be  had  at 
twenty-eight  feet. "  I  wanted  a  five  foot  well  in  diameter  so  he 
dug  and  dug  and  blasted,  and  not  a  sign  of  water,  to  a  depth  of 
thirty-three  feet.  Then  came  a  ten  days  rain  and  he  got  afraid 
of  a  cave  in,  so  advised  me  to  wall  it  up,  and,  as  I  knew  his 
fear;  though  he  did  not  mention  that,  and  I  was  afraid  it  might 
cave  in,  and  I  did  not  want  that  on  my  soul,  I  gave  the  order  to 
wall  the  hole  up;  in  addition  he  struck  damps  and  a  lantern  would 


A  LOVE  STORY  105 

die  out  every  time  at  twelve  feet  down.    I  was  up  against  it.    Af- 
ter a  while  I  got  another  man  to  come  and  he  said  he  could  drill 
twenty  feet  and  get  water,  so,  as  the  gas  had  left,  I  told  hinr, 
to  go  on.     He    drilled    twenty    feet    and    all   he  struck  was. 
some  more  bad  air  and  he  got  scared  and  got  out,  and  after  that 
drilling  not  a  drop  of  water  ever  staid  in  that  hole;  it  went 
4  'plumb"  dry,  as  we  say  in  my  country.     I  had  a  man  come  and 
dig  and  wall  me  three  cisterns  and  then  we  had  water,  but 
that  dry  hole  was  a  "bete  noir"  to  me.     I  was  laughed  at  and 
beat  out. 

I  told  my  cistern  man  and  his  helper  to  mix  and  pour  a  cou- 
ple of  tubs  of  cement  in  the  bottom  of  that  dry  well,  and  they 
did.  I  spouted  a  big  barn  150  feet  away  and  laid  tile  down  to 
that  hole,  but  the  water  ran  off;  I  do  not  know  where  it  went. 
Oh  my!  such  aggravations,  and  money  actually  in  a  hole,  and 
me  laughed  at,  and  had  to  swallow  "I  told  you  so"  all  along. 

Finally  a  neighbor  of  mine  who  had  a  number  of  wells  on 
his  farm,  and  he  was  on  a  steep  hill  too,  said  "Open  your  well, 
it's  good  to  let  the  air  in  it,  it  helps  to  draw  the  water".  Now 
be  it  known  that  dry  holes  sometimes  do  "draw  water",  as  it 
is  called.  I  have  heard  of  people  who  drew  a  few  barrels  of 
water  and  threw  into  dry  holes,  and  water  came;  and  others 
utilize  the  dry  holes  as  cisterns,  and  some  day  they  are  delighted 
to  find  the  water  has  "broke  in"  as  they  say.  All  about  my 
farm  springs  break  out  on  the  bluffs,  low  down  as  a  rule  how- 
ever. I  had  hoped  and  hoped,  but  saw  no  signs  of  water.  I 
said  to  this 'neighbor,  "I  hate  to  spend  another  cent  on  that 
thing;  it  has  cost  me  so  much".  "Oh",  he  said,  laughing,  "You 
need  not  spend  much;  get  a  store  box  for  a  curb,  and  a  rope  and 
bucket".  I  came  home,  looked  for  a  box  and  found  one.  Next 
day  I  found  some  stuff  that  did  for  a  frame.  I  called  one  of 
the  men  to  help  me  and  we  toggled  the  box  and  frame  on  the 
platform.  I  found  a  pulley  among  some  odds  and  ends  and  I 
got  a  rope  and  bucket;  then  we  began  on  it.  When  it  rained,  I 
thought  we  should  have  water  anyway,  and  so  we  had,  and  we 
used  a  great  deal  from  it,  and  as  the  earth  was  soaked  from  the 
heavy  rains  that  had  poured  into  it  I  suppose  it  held  out;  but 
it  got  dry  weather.  For  a  long  time  it  did  not  rain  and  then 
the  water  stood  at  one  level  and  never  changed.  I  knew  this 


106  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

because  the  rope  ran  up  to  the  knot  in  the  end  and  that  knot 
was  stopped  by  the  pulley  so  it  could  not  change,  and  the  water 
stood  at  a  level  all  the  time.  So  I  said  "Glory  be,  she's  broke 
in  and  no  one  will  make  me  feel  like  a  fool  any  more  about  that 
well". 

My  neighbor  who  had  had  a  dry  hole  for  years,  and  who 
had  croaked  so  much  to  me,  is  now  running  water  into  his  well 
in  hopes  to  draw  water  to  it.  So  the  old  adage  is  verified 
/ 'where  there  is  a  will  there  is  way",  and  we  have  a  well  and 
-good  cold  water  galore,  in  addition  to  springs  and  cisterns,  and 
.a  creek  and  river;  and  there's  water,  water  everywhere  and 
all  you  want  to  drink,  for  people  and  stock. 

To  the  man  who  witched  my  well  and  walled  it,  I  sent  word 
"The  water  has  broken  into  the  well  you  dug".  He  did  look  so 
sneaking  when  he  told  me  it  was  no  use  to  dig  any  more,  that 
though  I  was  mad  and  disgusted  I  still  had  a  feeling  for  his 
losing  his  reputation  as  a  water  witch.  I've  not  gone  back  on 
the  theory  yet  for  the  good  old  earth  is  veined  with  water,  and, 
as  the  beasts  scent  their  prey  and  the  dog  can  follow  his  Mas- 
ter's feet  among  a  thousand,  I'll  not  say  some  men  and  women 
are  not  sensitive  to  many  things  the  most  of  us  know  nothing 
about.  So  there  may  be  something  in  the  water  witch  after 
all,  and  anyway  wre  now  have  water  in  the  well  and  I  do  hot 
complain  of  the  cost  and  trouble  any  more. 


A  LOVE  STORY 


107 


THE  GENTLEMAN  IN  PATCHES. 

"A  King  may  make  a  Knight  or  Lord 

A  Marquis,  Duke  and  a'  that, 

But  honesty  needs  no  reward, 

And  Kings  can  never  buy  that."— Burns. 


CHARLEY,  JOHN,   JEROME   AND   WILLIAM. 
Men  That  Worked  For  Me. 


I  was  amused  the  other 
day  to  read  an  article  in 
a  well  known  magazine, 
written  by  the  official  who 
looks  after  the  people  who 
have  presentation  at  the 
English  Court,  that  there 
is  a  whole  line  of  the  little 
nobility  who  have  no 
chance  in  any  land  where 
Kings  and  Queens  and 
Emperors  rule,  to  be  hon- 
ored with  a  presentation 
at  Court;  but  that  there 
is  no  bar  whatever,  so  far  as  an  American  is  concerned  as 
to  receiving  that  honor  provided  certain  conditions  are  met. 
It  was  amusing  to  an  American  to  read  the  explanation  by  this 
gentleman  of.  the  reasons  why,  which  after  all,  resolved  them- 
selves into  the  one  fact— that  your  real  American  is  always  a 
gentleman,  or  gentlewoman,  no  matter  what  his  or  her  station. 
The  American  has  the  real  nobility  which  has  no  dependence  on 
birth  or  titles  conferred  by  a  man  or  woman  in  power.  I 
thought  of  our  men  on  the  farms^  the  most  of  whom  do  not  dis- 
dain to  wear  patched  garments,  nor  their  families  to  patch  them; 
but  as  men,  they  are  as  serene  in  their  patched  garments,  as 
cool  headed  as  kindly  and  polite  as  if  they  had  been  especially 
taught  and  were  garbed  in  broad  cloth.  It  is  the  real  nobility 
the  American  possesses,  and  which  the  Nations  of  the  earth 
confess,  and  so,  we  find  The  Gentleman  in  Patches,  often,  and  no 
one  thinks  anything  of  it.  The  farm,  after  all,  is  the  great 
leveler  as  well  as  the  great  elevator  of  men.  Men  and  women 


.  .108  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

are  kind  to  each  other,  they  set  up  no  false  standards;  they  all 
work  together  and  the  best  worker  is  the  best  man,  and  is  the 
most  sought  after.  The  farm  people  are  kind  to  each  other, 
have  sympathy  for  each  other,  depend  on  each  other  and  wear 
patches  together,  and  develop  the  deep,  true  qualities  that 
make  a  man  and  women  real. 


A  LOVE  STOR 


"EDMUND  JL 


THE  ORCHARD. 


THE  LONG  LANE  WITH  VIEW  OF  ORCHARD 

I  set  out  about  twelve  acres  in  orchard  the  first  year  I  came 
to  my  farm.  I  selected  rolling  ground;  it  had  been  in  corn. 
There  were  some  tremendous  trees  on  this  ground  that  the  men 
had  to  saw  down,  and  when  these  old  monarchs  of  the  forest 
fell,  there  was  a  mess  of  dead  limbs  to  clear  up  and  haul  away 
or  burn.  T  had  one  helper  who  brought  his  big  log  wagon  and 
took  off  several  large  tree  bodies  and  some  limbs;  the  rest  it  be- 
came my  task  to  burn.  Oh,  how  long  it  did  take  to  burn  that 
stuff;  one  old  fellow  I  burned  on,  the  best  part  of  a  week,  day 
and  night.  I  went  many  a  time  to  see  that  fiery  eye  wink  in 
the  darkness  of  the  evening  at  me.  I  gathered  trash,  chunks, 
etc.  and  kept  the  fire  going.  And  I  burned  out  stumps  too, 
though  they  are  not  all  gone  yet. 

Of  apple  trees  I  planted  what  seemed  to  me  to  promise  best 
returns  and  I  did  not  follow  the  choice  of  others  altogether. 
Some  apple  trees  I  knew,  also  their  habits,  so  I  put  out  some 
Roman  Beauties,  little  red  Romanites,  Genitens,  Grimes  Golden, 
Minkler,  Jonathan,  Wine  Sap,  Duchess  of  Oldenburg,  Early 


110  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

• 

Harvest,  a  few  Ben  Davis,  and  some  others.  My  apples  I 
bought  of  a  good  nursery  man  in  my  own  County  of  Effingham : 
I  bought  peaches  in  Nebraska,  and  cherries  and  pears  in  New 
York.  Nebraska  has  such  wide  places  to  plant  that  her  nurs- 
erymen sell  at  better  rates.  The  New  York  people  are  better 
stocked  on  cherries,  pears,  and  plums,  and  besides,  it  pays  them 
to  advertise,  and  they  make  inducements  to  customers.  Since  all 
nursery  stock  is  under  State  inspection,  it  is  safe  to  buy. 

My  trees  grew  well,  but  "Brer  Rabbit"  found  I  had  an 
orchard  and  came  to  see  it;  the  rascal  tried  his  teeth  on  my 
trees  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  every  one  has  been  smeared  with 
a  blue  stone  tallow  and  white  wash,  that  a  local  orchardist  told 
me  to  use.  My  heart  was  "broke,"  so  to  speak,  and  I  washed 
with  other  washes.  But  "Brer  Rabbit"  knew  a  thing  or  two 
and  came  again.  I  replaced  trees  and  racked  my  brain  for 
something  to  beat  him  out.  I  read,  I  asked,  and  I  thought.  I 
wanted  something  to  last  till  the  trees  were  out  of  danger  of 
rabbits.  Finally  I  bought  a  lot  of  one  and  a  half  inch  wire 
netting  and  each  tree  got  a  coop  around  it  about  eight  inches 
in  diameter,  and  that  will  last  till  the  trees  are  out  of  danger 
from  "Brer  Rabbit."  I  feared  that  the  rabbits  would  stick 
their  heads  through  the  meshes,  but  the  old  gentleman  who  put 
them  on  was  right  when  he  said  ''No  they  will  not,  they  are 
afraid  of  traps." 

Thompson  Seton  is  correct  when  he  says  the  wolves  and 
coyotes  will  not  touch  a  carcass,  if  a  piece  of  iron  lies  on  it.  I 
find  when  a  tree  is  missed  in  a  row  that  the  rabbits  keep  away; 
the  wire  encircled  trees  in  the  row  "skeered  'em",  as  we  say 
in  country  lingo. 

A  man  told  me  he  would  rather  have  weeds  than  an 
orchard,  but  I  would  not.  To  be  sure  we  are  obliged  to  attend 
to  our  trees  now  and  feed  them  and  fight  the  pests  that  assail 
them,  with  spraying  and  digging,  but  it  pays.  I  should  have 
had  apples  and  peaches  sooner  from  my  planting  had  it  not  been 
for  a  severe  cold  winter. 

When  the  fruit  trees  bloom  in  the  spring,  what  is  so  beauti- 
ful and  sweet.  Here  we  have  colors  and  perfume  blended  in 
a  riot  of  both,  and  the  sense  of  beauty  is  satisfied.  What  is 
so  lovely  as  to  see  everywhere  the  sweet  pink  of  the  peach  and 


A  LOVE  STORY  111 

apple  trees,  and  the  snowy  veils  of  the  plum  and  pear?  In  me 
a  joy  awakens  that  I  cannot  express,  and  we  who  farm  take  de- 
light in  thinking  what  returns  will  come  to  us  from  all  this 
show  and  delight. 

Not  Millais,  Tadema,  nor  Turner,  nor  the  ancient  or  modern 
painters  of  all  the  lands  can  hang  upon  my  walls  any  more  than 
little  fragments  of  all  we  can  see  and  enjoy  in  the  orchards  in 
spring  in  summer  in  autumn,  and  that  is  the  pattern  and  the 
model  of  all  they  paint;  we  farmers  posess  the  real  thing,  and 
we  may,  if  we  will,  rise  to  it,  in  culture. 

I  bought  my  small  fruits,  grapes,  currants,  gooseberries, 
rasberries,  blackberries  and  strawberries  in  Michigan  where 
they  sold  at  more  reasonable  rates.  The  winey  pieplant,  and 
asparagus  plants,  and  some  shrubs  I  obtained  in  New  Jersey; 
my  roses  I  got  in  Virginia,  my  evergreens  in  Illinois  and  Ne- 
braska. So  my  orchard  and  garden  is  a  sort  of  history  of  States. 
I  received  plant  catalogues  and  farm,  garden  and  orchard  pub- 
lications, and  took  out  of  all  what  seemed  good. 

I  would  not  be  without  an  orchard,  what  we  do  not  use,  we 
can  preserve,  and  can,  and  sell,  and  that  makes  for  the  farm  and 
for  someone  that  needs  work. 

So  I  love  my  orchard;  I  dearly  love  my  orchard  with  its 
mantle  of  beauty  in  the  spring,  and  for  its  returns  in  values  in 
the  summer  and  fall. 


112 


A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


THE  CATS. 

"The  harmless  necessary  cat. "— Shakspeare. 


I  have  always  kept  a  cat,  some- 
times cats:— red,  white,  black, 
blue,  yellow  or  spotted  cats,  com- 
mon and  uncommon  too,  and 
have  enjoyed  them  and  cared  for 
them.  I  remember  well  Peter, 
and  Clara,  Pigeon,  Tau,  Basil, 
Priscilla,  Alexander,  Tally  Ho, 
Uncle  Bill,  Toby,  Janey,  Julie, 
BASIL.  Matilda,  Lizzie,  Launce,  Sitten 

Boo,  Sissie  White,  Ittle  Boo,  Kizzie,  Goldie,  Dennis,  Little  Sis- 
ter, Johnnie,  Coon,  Rufus  and  other  Common  Cats.  Of  Angoras, 
Bubby  Bird,  "Tucky  King,"  Babe,  Dora  Dear,  Dear  Little  Tod- 
dles, Midget,  Philip,  Big  Boy,  Nita,  and  dear  little  frolicksome 
kittens  galore. 

Cats  are  as  different  in  nature  and  temper  as  dogs  and  peo- 
ple. The  Egyptians  worshipped  them;  the  great  and  good  have 
enjoyed  their  friendship;  they  have  set  at  the  hearthstones  of 
men  through  all  the  ages.  Mohamed  would  not  move  the  sleeve 
of  his  robe,  when  his  pet  cat  sat  beside  him  on  his  table,  and  took 
a  nap  on  it.  Cats  are  initially  for  mice  and  rat  catching,  but 
they  are  objects  of  beauty  and  satisfying  as  humble  friends; 
they  are  so  tidy  and  cleanly,  and  sing  such  comfortable  songs 
to  one.  The  Orientals  begin  to  call  for  them;  rats  are  supposed 
to  spread  the  Bubonic  plague  and  cats  destroy  rats,  hence  they 
are  wanted  to  kill  the  rats.  We  are  now  asked  to  breed  from 
the  best  mousers.  Our  mail  service  relies  upon  the  cats  to  pro- 
tect the  mail;  they  are  on  the  regular  payroll  of  the  .Govern- 
ment. Bankers,  Grocers  and  Bakers,  are  obliged  to  keep  them 
to  perserve  their  stocks.  I  think  of  the  Pied  Piper  of  Hamlin 
Town,  when  I  read  of  people  who  want  to  kill  off  the  cats,  and 
who  raise  the  cry  that  they  spread  disease.  Cats  abate  disease; 
and  if  we  kill  them  off  we  shall  find,  like  the  poor  creatures 
who  killed  the  birds  in  Longfellow's  "Birds  offKillingsworth", 


A  LOVE  STORY 


113 


that  we  shall  have  to  fetch  them  back  to  escape  the  ravages  of 
the  rhodents,  rats  and  mice,  or  be  eaten  out  of  house  and  home 
ourselves.  They  do  well  who  build  refuges  for  cats.  The  peo- 
ple who  want  to  kill  our  faithful  dumb  friends  grow  in  nature 
like  savage  beasts  with  no  sense.  It's  strange  how  certain 
punishment  follows  our  sins,  even  in  this. 

When  I  suspect  a  mouse,  I  call  Lizzie,  my  black  and  white 
cat.  It  is  interesting  to  watch  her.  She  knows  just  what  it  is 
I  want,  at  once,  and  she  pats  and  presses  and  feels  with  her 
little  fore  feet  and  if  there  is  a  mouse  she  gets  him,  there  is  no 
escape  for  that  poor  squeaker.  She  is  a  great  hunter  in  my 
barns. 

Dora  Dear,  my  white 
Angora  is  fine  for  rats  and 
mice.  Babe,  a  young  An- 
gora, and  deaf  as  a  post, 
made  mice  fly  that  got  in 
his  way  when  he  hunted, 
and  the  Angoras  will  all 
catch  rats  and  mice. 

BUBBY  BIRD.  The    idea    that    catg 

have  no  affection  is  foolish.  They  are  timid  by  nature  and 
have  always  been  chased  and  hunted  by  men  and  dogs,  and  have 
learned  to  be  on  the  look  out  for  danger.  They  use  their  claws 
to  help  themselves,  and  catch  and  grab  if  necessary.  I  was 
once  helping  a  cat  called  Basil,  because  he  was  so  sweet,  catch 
a  mouse.  It  was  dark,  in  the  barn  behind  the  grain  bin,  he  saw 
my  finger  move,  and  thought  it  was  a  mouse,  and  he  grabbed  it 
with  his  claws.  They  sunk  in  deep  and  drew  a  lot  of  blood.  I 
did  not  slap  or  reproach  Basil;  I  did  as  Johny  Appleseed  did  the 
rattle  snake  that  bit  him  in  the  heel  when  he  set  the  head  of  his 
scythe  on  it.  I  learned  just  how  a  cat  catches  a  mouse,  how 
sure  they  strike,  and  I  excused  Basil  and  sucked  my  finger  and 
spat.  Cats  do  not  mean  to  strike  us  when  they  scratch  as  a  rule; 
it  is  just  grabbing  to  save  themselves;  the  cat  well  treated, 
sheaths  her  claws  to  her  friends  as  carefully  as  we  sheathe 
ours;  if  well  treated  they  sing  us  a  wholesome  song  of  Content; 
but  they  must  be  happy  to  sing  their  song,  and  be  full  of  peace 
that  comes  from  trust  in  man;  hunted  and  abused  cats  do  not 


114  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

sing.  They  give  us  lessons  in  health  and  happiness,  they,  sug- 
gest to  us  the  recuperative  processes  of  rest,  and  how  to  enter 
the  great  silences  that  restore  body  and  soul.  Cats  vary  in 
their  ways  so  much  they  are  deeply  interesting;  one  cannot  bear 
to  be  handled;  another  cannot  get  enough  of  petting;  but  they 
can  think  and  love,  all  of  them,  and  it  is  a  pleasure  to  watch 
them,  and  listen  when  they  sing  their  "Thanky  Mam"  songs, 
some  so  loud  and  coarse,  some  so  fine,  some  in  such  ecstacy  of 
happiness  they  fairly  wear  themselves  out.  I  had  a  dear  little 
Angora,  Toddles.  He  was  so  little  and  his  Mother  had  not 
enough  food  for  him.  He  was  fed  from  a  spoon.  I  thought  he 
was  a  cripple  for  a  long  time,  but  he  just  had  bench  legs,  and 
came  out  all  right.  He  always  demanded  a  piece  of  paper  or  a 
magazine  to  sleep  on.  He  had  such  a  time  to  grow  up  he  had 
special  favors.  Once  he  was  so  sick  we  thought  he  was  dead 
several  times.  He  ran  all  over  the  farm  with  me,  and  when  his 
little  short  legs  would  play  out,  he  would  stop  and  howl  for  me, 
to  make  sure  he  was  not  lost.  Sometimes  when  I  could  not 
sleep  he  came  and  cuddled  down  and  sang  to  me,  such  a  dear 
little  song  I  was  comforted  and  sleep  came.  So  he  became  to 
me  the  Little  God  of  Sleep.  And  if  I  could  I'd  model  him  in 
clay  or  stone  as  that  Deity.  He  was  almost  human  in  many 
ways.  Toddles  was  a  sweet  dear  little  fellow  and  he  loved  to 
touch  my  hand  with  his  small  rough  tongue,  and  he  had  one 
little  caress  for  me  no  other  cat  I  ever  owned  gave  me.  He 
would,  if  I  laid  my  hand  On  his  breast,  grasp  it  in  his  paws  and 
hug  it  hard  and  close;  his  whole  body  was  tense  with  his  loving 
squeeze.  I  have  had  cats  who  would  open  and  shut  their  mouths 
as  if  talking,  but  never  make  a  sound.  So  many  ways  these 
little  friends  show  their  affection ;  it  touches  the  heart.  They  love 
so,  and  are  so  helpless  without  human  friends. 

I  had  a  cat  that  would  howl  dismally  if  I  was  gone  too  long. 
I  have  kept  birds  and  cats  at  the  same  time  and  the  cats  would 
sit  on  the  window  sill  beside  them.  I  have  had  cats  that  would 
follow  me  all  over  towrn  by  night  and  once  in  a  while  one  that 
would  follow  me  by  day.  It's  well  I  do  not  live  in  Cotton  Math- 
er's day.  Clara  Pigeon  followed  me  to  church  one  evening,  but 
did  not  presume  to  enter,  but  about  the  time  the  sermon  began 
she  made  a  wild  dash  through  the  church,  in  the  front  door  and 


A  LOVE  STORY  115 

out  the  back,  for  it  was  summer.  She  howled  and  her  bell 
jingled  as  she  ran.  She  made  a  live  sensation  in  that  sermon.' 
Like  Mary's  lamb,  she  lingered  near  and  went  home  with  me. 

I  had  a  black  and  white  spotted  cat  I  called  Tally  Ho,  for  he 
was  like  a  coach  dog  in  spots  and  color.  He  made  up  a  little  game 
of  tag  he  played  with  me.  It  was  cute  and  interesting  to  see  how 
he  made  it  up.  Tally  was  a  good  thinker ;  he  had  nervous  prostra- 
tion when  a  kitten  and  had  to  stay  in  the  house  all  winter  and 
be  cared  for.  In  the  Spring  I  turned  him  out  to  get  physical 
culture,  as  I  thought  he  needed  it.  I  wished  him  to  attend  the 
Cat  Operas  which  rage  at  that  season.  I  thought  the  Basso 
profundos  and  the  Tenorores  would  keep  him  actively  engaged. 
I  think  they  did,  for  his  health  improved  and  he  was  able  to  run 
to  the  top  of  a  tall  tree  in  a  neighbors  yard.  I  judged  some 
feline  Caruso,  or  Basso,  was  in  hot  pursuit  of  him  and  in  the  ex- 
citement of  the  occasion  he  ran  up  the  tree;  he  did  not  come 
home,  I  called,  and  heard  a  lamentable  howl,  and  there  he  was 
in  the  tree  top  too  scared  to  come  down.  I  got  a  long  ladder 
and  a  man,  and  he  was  rescued,  coming  down  to  terra  firma  with 
his  claws  rafely  planted  in  the  man's  coat.  Another  time  some 
feline  swashbuckler  chased  him  up  a  vine  at  the  side  of  the 
house  at  night,  and  there  he  hung  squalling,  until  a  ladder  and 
a  man  and  a  lantern  got  him  to  earth  again.  Cats,  like 
people,  do  great  things  under  the  stress  of  excitement  that  they 
are  scared  to  think  of  when  done.  Tally  Ho  got  well,  sol  judge 
physical  culture  is  good  for  cats  as  well  as  men.  Tally  Ho  was 
original.  He  climbed  a  stout  vine  at  the  side  of  my  house  and 
got  on  the  flat  tin  roof;  he'd  run  and  jump  there  in  the  early 
morning  making  a  great  noise.  Sometimes  he  would  come  to 
the  edge  of  the  roof,  look  over  and  call  me,  and  say  things 
which  I  translated  to  mean  "Missy,  Missy,  look  at  me.  Ain't  I 
a  big  cat?  See  how  high  up  I  am  and  I  ain't  'fraid"  etc. 

I  had  a  big  blue  and  white  cat,  Tommy  Tinker,  who  would 
call  my  big  dog  Sol  when  cats  bothered  him,  and  Sol  all  excite- 
ment would  race  out  and  run  up  a  ladder  on  a  shed  roof  where 
the  battle  was  on:  Tom  rejoiced  in  the  rout  and  praised  Sol. 
I  think  this  was  why  he  sometimes  combed  Sol's  head  and  ears 
for  him.  Tom  lived  to  be  18  years  of  age. 


116  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

•  When  my  cats  hear  my  voice  they  run  to  me,   not  because 
I  feed  them,  but  because  they  love  me  and  the  cat,   like  all 
dumb  brutes,  loves  all  who  are  good  to  it.     People  who  mistreat 
animals  are  accursed.  I  agree  with  the  poet— 
I  would  not  number  as  my  friend 
The  man  who  needless  sets  his  foot  upon  a  worm. ' ' 

The  cat  lives  and  loves  and  serves  us  faithfully;  they  are 
responsive  to  kindness;  they  are  not  at  their  best  under  ill  treat- 
ment. The  people  who  denounce  dogs  and  cats  and  injure 
and  ridicule  them  are  lacking  in  noble  qualities,  I  think. 

When  my  cats  must  pay  the  debt  we  all  owe,  I  feel  to  thank 
them  for  the  pleasure  they  gave  me;  for  the  burdens  they  light- 
ened; for  the  .lessons  they  taught  me.  I  feel  to  thank  God  for 
them.  I  recite  their  virtues.  I  say,  '  'Thank  you  dear,  little  loving 
friends,  for  all  you  gave  so  truly  tome  in  affection",  and  good- 
bye. Some  day  I  shall  know  why  you  are.  I  would  be  glad  to 
see  you  again  in  some  far  off  happy  day,  when  I  may  study  the 
why,  of  all  things,  and  the  how,  and  of  you". 


A  LOVE  STORY  117 

MY  DIAMOND  RING. 

I  always  wanted  a  diamond  ring.  It  is  a  symbol  of  values, 
and  beauty  of  the  highest  order;  I  love  its  wonder  and  its  mys- 
tery. I  marvel  at  the  light  that  flashes  from  the  gem.  I 
wanted  a  ring  of  first  water,  white  and  clear,  without  a  flaw, 
just  a  large,  glorious  Solitaire.  My  husband  would  have  placed 
a  ring  on  every  finger  of  my  two  hands  had  I  so  desired,  but  I 
wanted  so  many  other  things  and  I  could  not  see  my  way  to 
all. 

We  were  both  interested  in  a  great  Reform.  I  wanted 
books,  literature,  and  so  many  other  things  of  like  nature  for 
that;  I  wanted  so  much  for  the  thousands  of  children  we  taught 
the  new  life  in  a  great  reform;  so  my  diamond  ring  was  trans- 
muted into  lives  and  deeds.  I  taught  my  children  the  story  of 
the  little  maid  out  of  whose  mouth  came  roses,  pearls,  rubies 
and  diamonds,  and  that  was  better  than  a  ring  on  my  own 
finger.  I  studied  the  glorious  hues  of  all  the  precious  stones,  the 
topaz,  the  ruby,  the  garnet,  emerald,  saphire,  opal,  amethyst, 
and  their  glitter  and  glamour  in  the  plumage  of  my  great  bronze 
turkeys,  and  in  the  magnificent  colors  of  my  peacocks;  and  in 
the  cardinal,  and  blue,  and  jay  and  other  birds. 

I  can  see  the  glitter  of  the  diamond  in  a  drop  of  rain  or 
dew,  and  now  and  then  the  whole  heavens  gives  me  a  treat 
with  a  rainbow;  and  each  night  the  stars  out  sparkle  any  gem. 
The  noonday  sun  dares  me  to  gaze  upon  his  face.  But  my 
diamond  ring— it  does  not  glitter  upon  my  hand  and  I  am  forced 
to  be  content  with  larger  things.  How  many  women  long  for 
lovely  things,  but  give  their  values  to  their  children.  My  farm 
is  rich  in  things  more  satisfying  than  jewels  are  after  all,  so  I 
have  no  loss?  But  still  I  love  a  diamond  ring.  And  I'd  love  to 
own  and  wear  one  after  all. 


118 


A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


MY  DOGS. 


SAMPSON,  WALDO  AND  ANGELO. 

"He  (the  dog)  is  the  only  living  being  that  has  found  and 
recognizes  an  indubitable,  tangible,  unexceptionable  and  definite 
god;  he  is  born  our  friend;  while  his  eyes  are  still  closed  he  be- 
lieves in  us;  even  before  his  birth  he  has  given  himself  to  man; 
man  loves  the  dog,  but  how  much  more  he  onght  to  love  it". 
—Maeterlinck. 

11 1  think  Crab  my  dog,  62  the  sourest  natured  dog  that  lives. 
My  Mother  weeping,  my  Father  wailing,  my  sister  crying,  our 
maid  howling,  our  cat  wringing  her  hands,  and  all  the  house  in 
great  perplexity;  yet  did  nit  this  cruel  hearted  cur  shed  one  tear 


A  LOVE  STORY 


119 


nor  speak  a  ivord".  "Nay  I'll  be  sworn.  I  have  sat  in  the 
stocks  for  puddings  he  hath  stolen  else  he'd  have  been  executed. 
I  have  stood  on  the  pillory  for  geese  he  hath  killed,  otherwise 
he  had  suffered  for  it.  Thou  thinkest  not  of  this  now."  -Two 
Gentleman  of  Verona. 

I  have  always  loved  that  faithful  friend  or  man— the  dog. 
I  have  owned  and  loved,  and  been  loved  by  Jim,  Don,  Sol,  Samp- 
son Thu,  Roderick  Dhu,  the  Twins,  Roger,  Waldo,  Billy  Butler, 
Bussie,  Jackie  Gray,  Sallie,  Babbie,  Lady,  the  Red  Budders,  Peg- 
otty  and  Angelo.  These  have  been  my  own  particular  following 
of  canine  lovers  through  the  years.  I  have  had  many  dog  friends 
who  would  have  gladly  attached  themselves  to  me  if  I  had  let 
them.  A  dog  has  a  subtle  instinct  like  a  child,  and  he  knows  a 
friend,  and  he  longs  for  a  master  and  for  love. 

Jim,  and  Jackie  Gray,  were  scotch  terriers,  Roger  was  a 
pedigreed  St.  Bernard,  Billy  Butler  had  all  the  marks  of  a 
pointer,  but  his  mother  was  part  hound  I  was  told,  and  Bill's 
big  bellow  was  certainly  a  gift  from  that  breed.  Except  Roger, 
none  of  my  dogs  were  pure  bred,  but  they  lived  and  loved  and 
served  and  taught  me,  and  lightened  and  brightened  life  for 
me;  their  hearts  were  true  as  steel  to  me  and  mine. 

Dr.  Adams  who  wrote  "Where  is  my  Dog",  says  the  mon- 
grel has  the  best  brain  capacity  of  any  dog;  he  says  any  argument 
for  immortality  is  as  good  for  the  dog  as  for  man.  As  for  me,  I 

^   find   my  .dogs   are   like   people,  no  two 

alike,  they  could  all  think  and  under- 
stand ;  they  varied  in  capacity  and  temper. 
Sallie  was  the  humblest  dog  I  ever 
owned  and  she  was  always  getting  into 
trouble  by  it,  and  finally  it  brought  her 
to  an  untimely  death.  Billy  Butler  got 
along  with  the  least  minding  of  any  of 
my  dogs.  He  knew  things  mighty  well 
and  I  often  laughed  to  see  him  thinking. 
He  was  strong  as  a  bull,  and  could  bel- 
low like  one.  Hunting  was  his  delight; 
he  loved  all  the  cats  and  delighted  to 
BILLY  BUTLER.  scratch  their  backs  and  they  all  loved 


120  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

Bill.  Roger,  the  St.  Bernard  was  six  feet  from  tip  to  tip 
of  toes  when  he  lay  outstretched.  He  was  a  dear,  good  fel- 
low but,  like  so  many  fine  bred  dogs,  was  short  lived. 

Jackie  Gray  was  worth  his  weight  in  rats  on  my  farm  any 
day.  We  had  no  rats  when  Jack  ranged;  he  always  told  us 
when  he  found  a  rat  and  if  he  couldn't  get  it,  some  one  helped 
him,  and  he  got  the  rat.  He  was  waylaid  by  a  half  bull  dog 
which  had  been  taught  to  fight  and  murdered  by  it  on  his  own 
premises.  We  have  to  chase  rats  now. 

Sampson  Thu  was  a  good  thinker,  and  astute  at  working 
out  his  own  particular  dog  problems,  especially  as  they  related 
to  me.  Roderick  Dhu  was  cute  enough,  but  he  loved  his  own 
way  and  found  it  hard  to  come  to  mine. 

Sampson  and  Waldo  saved  my  life.  "Sampie"  was  small, 
black  as  ink  and  short  legged  and  determined.  Waldo  was  a 
setter  crossed  with  shepard  and  was  a  noble  dog.  He  was 
buff  and  tan  in  color,  with  black  and  white  trimmings,  and  long 
haired;  he  had  lovely  eyes  and.  a  noble  head.  He  had  been 
abused  before  I  got  him  and  it  took  me  a  long  time  before  I 
could  work  the  sense  of  fear  out  of  him.  He  got  over  his  fear, 
and  with  Sampson  attacked  a  fellow  who  tried  to  murder  me. 
Waldo  got  the  bullet  in  his  foot  and  it  clipped  out  a  piece  of 
flesh.  A  great,  vicious  bull  dog  attacked  him  and  hurt  him  so  badly 
he  finally  died  of  it.  I  hate  bull  dogs  and  think  a  law  ought  to 
forbid  their  breeding;  they  are  poor,  unfortunates  of  the  dog 
tribe  who  have  had  their  good  dog  qualities  bred  out  of  them ; 
many  of  them  are  vicious  as  wild  beasts,  and  they  often  attack 
their  own  masters  and  kill  people  and  children  and  dogs  and 
cats,  they  can  never  be  trusted  fully  I  think. 

Babbie  and  Lady  are  two  little  house  dogs  that  go  in  my 
buggy  to  keep  me  warm  and  "comfy"  when  the  weather  is 
cold.  Lady  is  a  busy  body  who  goes  hunting  mice  and  rabbits 
and  rats  till  she  is  half  crazy.  She  chases  the  chickens  out  of 
the  yard  if  I  say  "Get  the  Shoo  Shoos."  She  has  been  taught 
it  is  against  the  law  to  hurt  them  but  she  makes  them  "git". 

Babbie  is  a  little  doll  dog  who  would  like  to  be  held  and 
petted  the  most  of  the  time.  She'd  like  to  run,  but  she  is  too 
short  legged  and  fat.  She  thinks  she  is  very  brave  and  barks 
with  great  fierceness,  and  domineers  over  Lady  who  is  her  daugh- 


A  LOVE  STORY  121 

ter.  If  left  too  long  alone  she  indulges  in  pitiful  bowlings.  She 
has  a  funny  little  fashion  of  begging;  we  call  it  saying  her  pray- 
ers, and  she  gets  many  favors  out  of  her  humble  petitions. 

The  "Budders"  are  half  gown  red  pups— children  of  Sallie 
Bailie.  One  we  call  Red  Budder,  the  other  Budder  White;  one 
being  solid  red,  the  other  marked  with  white.  They  have  a 
great  time  screaming  and  crying  when  I  have  been  away  a  day 
or  so  and  get  back.  They  seem  to  want  to  tell  me  how  lonesome 
they  have  been.  Poor  Budders— poor  dogs— I  wonder  if  it  is 
true  the  souls  of  unhappy  mortals  are  imprisoned  in  you  to  work 
out  their  salvation  in  yonr  lowly  lives! 

On  the  farm  we  must  keep  dogs;  the  rats,  coons,  possum, 
mink,  muskrat,  weasel,  foxes  and  other  creatures  would  soon 
end  the  poultry  business  if  we  did  not,  and  we  who  live  on  the 
creeks  and  rivers,  must  see  to  it  that  the  foot  of  the  dog  passes 
over  the  land,  that  the  wild  creatures  may  keep  their  places  and 
not  poach  on  ours;  the  farmer  needs  dogs. 

The  dogs  amuse  us  in  their  wild  chasing  of  rabbits,  for 
"Brer  Rabbit"  runs  them  silly,  and  then  cuts  a  sharp  right  an- 
gle, the  dogs  run  far  ahead  and  before  the  dogs  recover  Brer  Rab- 
bit is  gone  for  good,  and  we  sometimes  see  him  sneaking  up  the 
back  way  home.  The  rabbit  is  a  good  joker  when  it  comes  to 
dogs. 

All  dogs  are  teachable,  some  more,  some  less  apt.  I've 
taught  them  to  climb  ladders,  jump,  roll  over,  speak,  fetch  and 
carry,  spell  words,  hunt  the  slipper,  play  tag  and  many  other 
things,  I  learned  much  myself  teaching  them.  They  need  three 
things  to  learn— first,  obedience,  then  attention,  then  confidence. 
One  must  never  betray  a  dog's  confidence  if  he  wishes  to  get  at 
the  best  there  is  in  him.  Cats  and  dogs  both,  have  germinal 
consciences.  I  have  a  law  I  call  the  law  of  the  barn,  and  all 
have  to  come  to  it.  I  say,  "The  strong  must  give  up  to  the 
weak".  It  makes  for  peace  and  as  soon  as  the  dumb 
creatures  learn  it  there  is  peace  and  love,  and  this  is  a 
law  that  works  with  people  as  well.  I  see  to  it  that  the  law  is 
enforced,  and  it's  breaking  attended  with  enforcement  of  just 
punishment. 

My  dogs  and  cats  all  loved  each  other,  and  they  all  love  the 
horses  and  the  horses  learn  to  be  kind  to  them.  My  old  Sol 


122  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

used  to  provoke  my  big  Maltese  "Tom"  by  staying  too  long  when 
he  went  after  the  meat,  and  the  cat  would  meet 
him  half  way  down  the  stairs  and  rap  him  on  the 
nose.  Sol  was  big  enough  to  annihilate  Tom,  but 
he  was  under  the  law,  and  it  was  funny  to  see 
Sol  look  at  me  and  almost  wink,  as  if  he  consid- 
ered it  a  good  joke.  Tom  often  combed  Sol's 
head  and  ears  with  his  rough  tongue,  but  he 
required  that  big  dog  to  lie  still  as  a  mouse;  if 
SOL.  he  did  not  Tom  rapped  him  on  the  ear  with  his 

doubled  up  paw  or  clawed  him.     I  always  thought  Sol  was  not 

fond  of  having  Tom  comb  him,  though  Tom  seemed  to  consider 

it  a  great  favor  to  Sol. 

My  big,  red  cat  Rufus  and  Uncle  Bill,  another  big,  red  cat 
both  loved  Billy  Butler,  who  in  turn  was  fond  of  them.  They 
would  sit  up  on  their  hind  legs  before  him  and  sing  such  big, 
big  songs,  and  softly  paw  his  breast  and  look  at  Bill  so  lovingly. 
Billy  liked  it,  but  he  would  look  so  foolishly  at  me  as  if  he  con- 
sidered it  a  come  down  from  the  proper  dignity  of  a  dog. 

To  little  Jim,  my  Father's  dog,  and  to  big  Sol,  I  used  to  en- 
trust the  cat  and  kittens  at  night.  The  Cat  in  her  basket  with 
her  babies,  was  set  between  the  two  dogs,  and  no  rascally  Tom 
cat  could  hurt  them  for  the  dogs  kept  watch  and  ward;  and 
stray  cats  they  dearly  loved  to  make  "scoot"  from  our  premises. 

Little  black  Sampson  loved  me  foundly,  he  melted  to  my 
every  word.  He'd  have  followed  me  through  fire.  He'd  have 
cried  if  he  could  when  I  was  sad,  and  sometimes  he'd  just  give 
a  shriek,  plunge  at  me,  and  make  such  queer  noises  I'd  have  to 
feel  better  to  relieve  him;  it  seemed  to  hurt  him  when  I  was  sad. 

Men  love  dogs  for  dogs  love  them.  Your  dog  looks  up  to 
you;  he  never  criticises,  which  is  a  hard  thing  to  bear  even 
from  the  best  of  friends.  You  are  all  right,  whatever  you  are, 
to  your  dog.  He  is  the  subtlest  of  flatterers.  I  understand 
why  the  poor  man  with  his  gang  of  dogs,  loves  them;  he  wants 
friends,  no  one  cares  for  him  but  his  dogs;  he  wants  affection, 
his  dogs  give  it  to  him;  he  needs  a  little  praise,  and  no  one  but 
the  dog  gives  it  to  him.  Everybody  takes  a  slam  at  him,  but 
his  dog.  He  is  a  better  man  for  their  friendship. 


A  LOVE  STORY 


123 


EUSSIE. 


I  marvel  at  the  affection  that  shows  the  deeps  of  fidelity  in 
my  dog  friends.  Why  is  the  dog  an  epitome  of  faithful  love? 
I  thank  God  for  the  affection  and  friendship  of  my  dear  dumb 
friends.  I  do  not  know  why  the  dogs  love  us  unless  the  good 
Lord  knew  men  needed  just  that  sort  of  a  devoted  friend.  I 
hate  the  word  "cur"  as  applied  to  a  dog.  I  would  not  compare 
a  man's  mean  deeds  to  a  dog's  acts;  it  is  not  fair  to  the  dog.  I 
do  not  believe  in  mai  dDgs.  I  knew  a. man  who  lost 
his  whole  hand,  and  another  part  of  his,  from  the  bite 
of  a  man,  and  both  almost  lost  their  livas  as  a  consequence  but 
we  do  not  muzzle  men.  The  milk  of  a  woman  suckling  her 
child  after  a  .fit  of  anger,  has  been  known  to  kill  the  child.  I 
despise  the  annual  mad  dog  scare  raised  by  ignorance.  I  hate 
Vivisection  that  tortures  our  dear  dog  friends,  and  brutalizes 
and  degrades  all  who  practice  it,  and  that  results  in  many  a 
legal  murder. 

If  I  am  as  true  to  God  as  my  dog  is  to  me,  I  shall  fullfill 
the  divine  law.  When  I  see  the  loving,  wishful  look  in  my 
dog's  eyes,  I  wish  I  looked  up  to  my  Heavenly  Father  with 
as  deep  desire,  and  that  I  was  as  obedient  t)  His  will  as  my  dog 
is  to  mine. 

The  dog  looks  up  to  me;  I  am  his  God.  Do  I  look  like  that 
to  my  God,  who  gave  me  the  dog  to  help  me  as  a  friend  and 
teacher? 


124  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

When  my  dogs  pay  their  debt  to  nature,  and  the  short  term 
we  call  their  life  closes,  or  disaster  overtakes  them,  I  lay  them 
away  with  decency.  I  recall  their  virtues  and  their  love.  I 
thank  them  that  they  loved  me  and  were  good  to  me.  I  thank 
God  he  sent  me  so  much  of  His  tender  love  in  my  dog  to  teach 
me  and  uplift  me  to  Him.  My  dog  has  no  words  but  he  speaks 
a  language  I  understand,  in  voice,  in  eye  and  in  action,  and  he 
speaks  to  me  of  God. 

DOES  YOUR  LITTLE  DOGGIE  LAUGH? 

Say  Laddie,  does  your  little  doggie  laugh? 

Does  he  ope'  his  mouth  and  show  his  teeth  and  grin? 

Does  he  wag  his  little  tail, 

Does  he  prance  and  say  "All  Hail" 

To  the  boy  he  loves  more  than  he  loves  himself? 

Yes,  he  laughs  and  jokes  and  runs, 

Till  he  makes  you  laugh  and  fun 

And  you  both  are  gay  as  larks  around  your  house.  — 

Given  to  a  boyfriend  with  a  puppy. 


A  LOVE  STORY  125 

BARBED  WIRE  FENCES. 

The  Barbed  Wire  fence  begun  with  a  coffee  mill,  and  a 
woman,  made  its  millions  for  a  wise  man  and  it's  here  to  stay 
and  we  can't  do  without  it,  for  it's  cheap  and  efficient.  If  one 
wants  to  roam  over  a  farm  or  fields  surrounded  with  barbed 
wire,  and  doesn't  want  to  go  to  a  gate  maybe  a  long  way  off,  and 
maybe  there  is  no  gate  at  all,  when  one  wants  through,  it's  a 
job.  The  Country  man  in  overhauls  has  a  way  of  pulling  a 
fence  down  and  going  through  if  there  are  three  wires;  if  there 
are  more  them  three  wires  he  can  climb  a  post,  provided  the 
post  is  stout;  but  to  a  woman  the  task  is  not  so  easy  for  the 
barbs  catch  her  garments  and  often  she  can't  get  loose,  or  she 
gets  her  clothes  torn  somewhat.  I  can  climb  a  post  if  I  am  sure 
it  is  stout,  and  if  I  get  caught  I  tear  myself  loose  regardless  of 
consequences;  but  I  often  lie  flat  as  I  can  make  myself  on  the 
ground  and  "snake"  through  under  the  bottom  wire.  I  have 
sometimes  got  caught  on  my  back,  when  the  only  thing  to  do  is 
to  tear  loose  and  leave  part  of  your  garments  hanging  to  the 
fence.  To  climb  a  post,  or  to  "snake"  under  are  both  pretty 
healthy  exercises.  The  woman  who  preforms  will  not  have 
to  wallow  on  the  floor  to  develop  her  muscle,  nor  use  exercises 
for  good  of  her  muscular  system.  I  am  convinced  that  all 
exercise  should  have  some  valuable  object,  so  I  do  my  work  and 
get  my  exercise  at  the  same  time,  in  getting  through  barbed 
wire  fences. 


126  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

THE  COON  AND  THE  CAT. 

"The  Coon  he  is  above  us,  his  nest  is  in  the  tree" 

—  Old  Song. 

In  the  "Haunt  of  the  Chilowe"  there  is  a  pet  coon  which 
washed  everything  before  he  ate  it,  who  unravelled  an  old 
lady's  knitting,  and  was  in  mischief  of  all  sorts  all  the  while; 
that's  a  coon's  way. 

At  my  Band  of  Hope  Pet  Animal  show  and  Industrial  Art 
exhibit,  a  pet  coon  now  and  then  was  brought.  I  remember 
one  dear  little  chap  who  would  hold  out  his  baby  like  paws  and 
beg  to  be  taken  up  and  carried  about;  he  had  such  a  coaxing 
little  appeal.  He  was  often  loosed  from  his  chain  and  taken 
little  trips  in  arms.  Another  came  in  a  cage  and  was  set  near 
some  chickens  on  the  bench.  I  saw  that  coon  reach  out,  and  it 
is  curious  how  they  can  stretch  their  arms,  and  try  to  get  a 
chicken  in  a  coop  near  by.  He  did  not  look  the  chicken's  way; 
he  looked  at  the  people  with  the  most  innocent  face,  but  he 
reached  for  the  chicken.  I  moved  the  cages.  That's  the  way 
of  a  coon. 

One  of  the  young  men  on  my  farm  found  a  young  coon  lying 
in  the  road  whimpering.  It  had  evidently  fallen  from  a  nest 
in  a  tree  and  the  mother  had  not  missed  it.  He  brought  it  to 
me.  It  was  just  able  to  crawl.  I  had  a  blue  cat  with  two 
kittens  and  I  gave  it  to  her  to  be  cared  for.  Two  nights  it 
cried  so  pitifully  I  concluded  to  hunt  its  Mother  up.  Its  lamen- 
tations were  unbearable;  we  fed  it  milk.  All  of  a  sudden  it 
shut  up,  and  the  cat  began  to  cry,  and  I  found  the  coon  was 
feeding  from  the  cat;  but  he  was  fixing  a  teat  to  his  notion  and  it 
hurt  the  cat  and  took  her  skin  off.  The  cat  would  cry  and  growl, 
but  the  coon  would  hug  her  in  its  long  strong  arms  and  work 
away.  After  a  while  the  cat's  flesh  healed  and  the  coon  was 
all  right,  she  ran  and  romped  and  rolled  with  her  foster  Mother 
"Sitten  Boo,"  and  the  two  kittens,  and  was  a  droll  little  fellow. 
"Goodie,"  as  we  called  her,  would  grab  "Sitten  Boo"  in  her 
strong  arms,  and  she  soon  was  the  favorite  child.  She  drank 
milk  like  a  pig,  plunging  into  the  pan,  and  then  washed  up  nice 
and  clean  afterwards. 


A  LOVE  STORY  127 

But  there  came  a  day  when  "Sitten  Boo"  concluded  the 
kittens  and  the  coon  must  earn  their  own  living;  the  kittens 
soon  gave  up,  but  Goodie  couldn't  believe  it.  She  treated  the 
whole  matter  as  a  great  joke;  she  romped,  she  begged,  she 
coaxed  the  Cat,  but  it  was  no  go,  the  jig  was  up;  she  had  to  go, 
and  content  herself  with  milk  in  a  pan.  She  was  a  jolly  little 
coon,  and  she  raced  and  ran  and  climbed  trees,,  swinging  on  the 
limbs  and  walking  upside  down.  She  would  lie  in  my  lap  and 
play  with  my  hands,  and  pretend  to  bite  my  ears.  She  played 
all  sorts  of  funny  jokes  on  me.  She  followed  me  about  the 
farm  like  a  dog.  It  was  pretty  to  see  her  sit  up  and  pick  and 
eat  blackberries.  She  loved  to  romp  with  the  cats;  she  grew 
so  large  she  touselled  them  thoroughly. 

One  day  two  of  the  dogs  forgot  themselves  and  took  after 
her,  and  they  got  under  the  house;  both  had  hunted  wild  game 
and  they  forgot  she  was  not  wild.  I  heard  the  uproar  but  the 
dogs  would  not  obey  me,  I  thought  Goodie  was  about  to  die.  I 
used  a  long  pole  to  poke  the  dogs,  but  they  were  crazy.  All  at 
once  Goodie  started  to  get  out  from  under  the  house;  I  reached 
and  grabbed  her;  she  threw  her  head  sideways  and  scraped  my 
hand  with  her  teeth  thinking  the  dogs  had  her,  but  when  she 
saw  it  was  me,  she  hugged  me  tight  by  neck  and  shoulders, 
and  I  beat  off  the  dogs  who  were  determined  to  kill  her.  Poor 
Goodie,  she  was  stiff  and  sore  for  several  days.  The  dogs  got 
two  good  whippings  apiece,  two  awful  lectures,  and  no  supper, 
and  were  tied  to  her  cage  all  night  to  meditate  on  their  sins. 
Goodie  got  so  we  could  not  keep  her  in  her  coop  any  longer; 
she  killed  young  chickens,  climbing  the  trees  for  them,  she 
killed  setting  hens  and  ate  their  eggs.  She  seemed  wild  and 
would  let  no  one  touch  her;  her  eyes  flashed  fire,  and  she  threat- 
ened all  of  us.  I  sent  her  as  a  gift  to  the  Lincoln  Park  Zoo, 
Chicago,  and  Cy  de  Vry  sent  me  word  saying  she  was  a  fine 
animal.  So  endeth  the  story  of  the  Coon  and  the  Cat. 


128  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

TO  KILL  OR  TO  FEED. 

I  saw  one  day  in  a  field  a  boy  of  twelve  or  fourteen  years, 
upon  a  harrow  which  he  was  using  to  prepare  a  field  for  seeding. 
He  had  three  horses  hitched  to  this  crusher  and  breaker  of  clods, 
and  he  had  them  well  in  hand;  the  horses  owned  him  as  a  Mas- 
ter. His  feet  were  well  apart,  and  he  was  firmly  planted  tripod 
wise  upon  the  big  steel  harrow.  I  thought  of  those  men  of  the 
ancient  days  who  drove  their  war  chariots  with  fiery  steeds, 
and  who  stood  tripod  wise  to  secure  a  safe  footing,  and  command 
over  their  war  chariots.  I  could  but  think  that  the  Warrior  and 
his  chariot  drove  to  destroy  and  kill,  while  the  young  lad  drove 
his  harrow  and  his  team  to  nurture  and  save  life.  Which  is  the 
best,  which  is  the  nobler  and  most  heroic?  By  all  odds,  the  lad 
who  drives  the  horses  and  drags  the  harrow  is  a  greater  man 
than  he  who  drove  to  destroy  and  kill.  The  only  difference  is 
we  invest  the  destroyer  with  more  honor  and  dignity  than  the 
life  saver.  Yet  of  the  two,  the  country  lad  is  the  greater  hero. 
While  I  enjoyed  to  see  his  enjoyment,  as  he  did  the  work  and  I 
could  see  the  satisfaction  it  gave  him,  I  wished  the  day  might 
come,  and  soon,  when  we  knew  the  real  hero,  and  taught  him  to 
glory  in  his  splendid  tasks  on  the  farm.  Everywhere  the  boys 
from  the  farms  sit  in  the  high  places  of  the  earth.  Let  us  not 
forget  that  the  farm  is  a  great  University  where  we  handle  and 
develop  the  ideal.  The  city  must  have  the  farm  and  the  farm- 
er as  a  substratum,  or  it  cannot  thrive,  for  the  farmer  feeds  the 
people,  he  does  not  kill. 


A  LOVE  STORY 


129 


POTATOES,  KARTOFFEL. 


"JESSE" 

My  Champion  Potato  Gatherer 
22  Months  Old. 


Whoever  it  was,  (and  the  who  has 
been  disputed)  that  brought  the  potato 
from  its  native  habitat  in  the  Americas, 
and  scattered  it  all  over  the  world  to 
feed  it,  deserves  a  monument.  Now 
that  is  ridiculous.  No,  it  was  no  small 
task  to  carry  that  first  potato  across  the 
earth,  from  sea  to  sea  and  plant  it  every- 
where. It  feeds  men  from  the  North  to 
the  South,  and  East  to  West  its  vines 
and  rootlers  run.  The  flower  is  not  bad 
looking  and  the  vine  is  frond  like,  and 
it  smells  no  worse  than  the  fern  tribe. 
It  has  within  itself  the  power,  by  the 
help  of  man,  to  develop  into  early  and 
late,  and  red,  white  and  yellow  hues;  and 
round,  flat  and  long  its  contours  come. 

If  soil  and  sun  and  rain  and  air  and  man  are  faithful  to  it,  fifty, 
one  hundred,  and  five  and  six  hundred  bushels  will  pile  up  in 
our  acres,  and  fill  our  pockets  with  golden  results.  With  little 
care  and  not  in  the  best  of  ground,  I  raised  not  less  than  one 
hundred  bushels  per  acre  of  flat,  sweet  and  vigorous  potatoes 
on  my  land.  If  I  had  had  more  time  to  care  for  and  enrich  my 
acres,  I  could  have  raised  more.  The  potato  is  a  gracious  fruit 
and  will  grow  in  a  "lazy  bed,"  covered  with  straw  in  early 
March,  and  will  yield  the  earliest  crop.  Planted  in  June  it  will 
bring  good  returns  if  cared  for.  In  my  monument  to  him  I'd 
have  the  Discoverer  hold  aloft  the  potato;  at  his  feet  have 
the  women  and  children  gathering  these  treasures  of  the  earth; 
with  them  the  farmer  with  his  team  and  plough  and  harrow 
stirring  them  out;  and  I'd  drape  the  whole  with  vines  and  blos- 
soms of  this  earth  fruit. 

I  have  on  my  farm  the  Champion  potato  picker  of  the 
world.  When  he  was  twenty-two  months  old  he  gathered  a 
peck  of  potatoes  all  himself.  He  was  the  baby,  and  went  into 
the  "patch"  with  his  mother  and  aunt  and  myself  who  were 
gathering  potatoes,  while  his  father,  my  farmer,  ploughed  them 


130  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

out.  He  began  to  gather  up  and  throw  potatoes  into  our  bask- 
ets, and  I  said  to  his  aunt,  "Let  us  see  if  Jesse  can't  gather  a 
bucket  of  potatoes  by  himself".  So  we  gave  him  the  bucket 
and  said,  "Jesse  you  get  a  bucket  of  potatoes",  and  although 
the  little  fellow's  talk  was  yet  only  a  gabble  he  krew  what  was 
said  to  him  very  well,  and  along  the  row  he  went  and  got  the 
potatoes  in  his  little  hands,  and  it  was  not  long  until  he  had  a 
bucket  full.  Twice  he  pitched  a  potato  and  both  times  it  went 
into  the  bucket.  That  was  enough  for  the  baby;  he  had  won 
the  Championship;  and  after  that  he  played  in  the  dirt,  threw 
clods,  sifted  dirt  through  his  small  fingers  and  rode  on  the  har- 
row with  his  father  holding  him;  he  was  dirty  and  happy.  He 
loved  the  outdoors  from  his  father  and  mother  and  forbears, 
and  had  their  love  of  work,  and  their  skill  was  in  his  small  body, 
Jesse,  my  champion,  youngest  potato  picker  in  the  world. 

What  we  farmers  need  is  to  cultivate  the  ideal  in  our  work. 
At  the  end  of  the  day  we  will  not  only  remember  our  tired  backs 
and  limbs,  and  the  ploughing  and  the  of  times  stubborn  soil,  and 
the  sweat  and  soil  of  the  day,  but  we  shall  remember  the  sun 
and  the  sky  and  the  gracious  earth  that  answers  to  our  call. 
We  will  love  more  the  patient  beasts  who  toil  with  us,  the  little 
children  who  bless  and  enlarge  us,  and  the  good  God  with  whom 
we  are  co-workers.  I  would  have  the  monument  set  to  idealize 
our  crops,  yes,  idealize  the  homely  potato,  and  let  our  young  peo- 
ple learn  all  that  farm  work  means  to  the  whole  world;  let  them 
learn  the  foundation  of  life  is  on  the  farm,  even  to  commemorat- 
ing the  potato  discoverer  with  a  monument.  •  . 


- 
i 


A  LOVE  STORY  131 

THE  TURKEY  BIRD. 

The  Turkey  is  a  pure  American  bird.  Thomas  Jefferson 
wanted  it  used  as  a  National  emblem,  but  the  turkey  has  no 
heroic  characteristics;  we  can  not  say  of  him  as  we  can  of  the 
eagle:  — 

"High  he  soars  the  sunbeams  facing, 

Strong  the  eagle's  wing  and  eye; 

Scarce  he  deigns  to  turn  his  gazing 

Downward  from  the  lofty  sky. 

Bird  of  freedom  upward  tower, 

Long  thy  soaring  flight  prolong, 

Emblem  of  our  Country's  power 

Be  thou  ever  free  and  strong. ' ' 

The  turkey  was  a  wild  bird,  but  it  has  submitted  to  domes- 
tication and  is  our  National  pride  at  Thanksgiving  and  Christ- 
mas times.  No  other  bird  could  take  the  turkey's  place,  and 
there's  money  in  the  turkey  bird,  as  the  farmer's  wife  well 
knows.  The  wild  turkey  we  have  crossed  and  recrossed  and 
bred  till  we  have  the  splendid  snow  white  Hollands,  the  lovely 
tan  Bourbons,  the  silver  gray  species  and  the  magnificent 
Bronze  giants,  gorgeous  in  gay  plumage  of  black  and  gold  tints 
that  shimmer  and  glitter  in  the  sunshine,  and  that  strut  and 
gobble  and  kwouk  on  our  farms.  I  love  to  see  the  big  Toms 
strut  and  thrump  and  spread  their  tails  and  drag  their  wings 
and  shake  every  quill,  till  the  bird  seems  an  animated  rattle  box. 
How  grand  they  feel,  as  they  turn  their  great  wattles  a  bloody 
red  or  a  ghastly  blue,  as  the  whim  takes  them  and  dangle 
their  long  snout  like  head  pieces  down  their  breasts  and  necks. 
They  seem  to  explode  with  delight  at  intervals.  I  raised  a  lot 
of  young  Goblers  once  and  I  was  fond  of  going  among  them  to 
shake  my  skirts  and  see  and  hear  them  all  gobble  at  once;  they 
gobble  with  such  vim  and  vigor  I  do  not  wonder  this  feature 
of  their  performance  was  used  by  some  odd  genius  in  a  Comic 
Opera  as  the  "Gobble,  Gobble  Gobble  Chorus". 

One  wild  habit  the  turkeys  still  retain,  they  hide  their  nests, 
and  thereby  cause  much  work  and  weariness  to  the  farm  women 
and  children  who  must  hunt  turkey  nests.  The  crows  have  got 
the  habit  of  hunting  turkey  nests  too,  and  a  nest  full  of  empty 


132  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

shells  often  tells  they  have  found  one.  It  is  an  art  to  find  a 
turkey's  nest.  The  hens  begin  to  "kwouk",  then  we  know 
what  they  think,  and  they  sneak  off  and  will  wind  in  and  out 
and  around  about,  instead  of  going  direct  to  their  nests,  the 
women  and  children  folio  wing  and  hunting;  and  they  sometimes 
find  the  nest  almost  under  their  feet.  I  bell  my  turkeys,  but  like 
some  cows  which  wear  bells,  they  learn  to  move  so  quietly  the 
bell  does  not  give  them  away,  as  it  is  silent. 

Turkeys  take  notions  by  spells  and  wander.  I  had  a  bunch 
once  that  had  to  be  hunted  up  and  chased  home  every  day;  but 
now  I  mother  them  with  kind  words  and  feed  them,  and  we 
never  chase  and  "shoo"  them,  so  they  like  to  stay  near  home 
and  come  in  to  roost  with  regularity.  We  had  a  big  white  duck 
the  year  they  wandered  and  he  almost  wore  himself  out  wadd- 
ling after  them.  He  had  been  raised  with  them  and  we  always 
said  he  '  'thought  he  was  a  turkey".  Turkeys  love  the  meadows, 
and  they  thrive  on  insects;  especially  they  love  the  grasshop- 
pers. Since  I  have  meadows  they  find  plenty  to  keep  them 
busy  and  at  home.  The  turkey  is  a  lordly  bird.  When  Tommy 
Turk  goes  strutting  and  thrumping  and  rattling  his  quills,  he  is 
an  impressive  object.  The  only  grief  that  I  feel  is  that  they 
are  destined  for  the  block  at  Thanksgiving  and  Christmas  times. 


A  LOVE  STORY  133 

THE  WHEAT  FIELDS. 

The  great  problem  of  the  world  now  a  days  is  how  to  raise 
enough  bread  stuff  to  feed  the  people.  Wheat  is  the  great  sta- 
ple; it  is  a  gross  feeder,  and  the  fields  where  it  is  raised  decline 
in  fertility.  America  with  all  her  rich  lands  has  begun  to  im- 
port wheat.  Everywhere  the  question  is— how  to  increase  the 
amount  of  bnshels  of  wheat  per  acre?  Agricultural  Colleges 
the  world  over  make  study  of  it,  and  experiment  fields  make 
hopeful  exhibits,  Wheat  seed  from  every  where  in  the  world 
is  put  to  the  test,  and  the  yield  of  wheat  begins  to  incjrease, 
provided  the  conditions  are  observed,  and  we  restore  to  the  soil 
what  the  wheat  takes  from  it.  The  farmer  can  get  instructions 
from  all  lands  on  the  wheat  question  now,  the  subject  is  trem- 
dously  interesting. 

Everywhere  we  have  a  hope.  China  and  Japan  have  solved 
part  of  the  question  how  to  support  a  dense  population  on  small 
areas.  When  we  save  and  use  all  fertilizing  matter  we  shall 
have  done  much  for  the  land.  Just  now  we  lose  and  waste 
much  that  would  help  it.  The  stench  that  goes  up  from  burn- 
ing trash  piles  every  year  provokes  me  and  makes  me  sad.  I 
hate  the  stink,  it  is  not  wholesome,  and  it  is  a  stench  that  demon- 
strates that  the  land  is  robbed.  My  Father,  when  he  made  his 
garden,  spaded  under  every  chip  and  leaf  and  rag  and  bone  and 
old  shoe — everything,  and  how  his  garden  did  grow  and  prosper; 
he  had  enough  to  use  and  could  give  away.  I  saw  two  boys 
one  day  beating  a  tomato  can  about  the  street  and  I  said,  in  a 
solemn  voice  "Boys  did  you  ever  see  a  tomato  can  turn  into  a 
boy"?  They  stopped  beating  the  can  and  I  continued  "You 
take  that  can  home  and  dig  a  nice  hole  in  the  ground  and  bury 
it;  then  plant  a  tomato  seed  right  by  it  and  it  will  eat  that  can 
up;  then  you  eat  the  tomato  when  it's  ripe,  and  you  see  the  tin 
can  will  become  boy".  They  laughed.  An  old  farmer  friend  I 
told  the  story  to,  grinned  after  the  surprise  of  the  question,  but 
it's  true.  I  am  sure  the  story  of  Cinderella's  coach  made  of  a 
pumpkin,  her  horses  of  rats,  and  her  beautiful  garments  and 
her  fairy  Godmother  is  true  after  all.  Many  a  farmer  boy  and 
girl  lays  the  foundation  of  a  fortune  by  raising  pumpkins.  I 
heard  of  one  boy  who  started  a  great  fortune  by  catching  rats 


134  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

on  the  farm.  Pumkins  and  rats,  and  then  a  farm,  and  horses 
and  cattle  and  fields— what  not.  The  fairy  Godmother  is  good 
sense  and  hard  work,  and  all  things  mean  and  small  are  trans- 
muted by  them  into  larger  good. 

If  we  use  all  the  means  at  hand  we  shall  get  at  Mother 
Nature's  secrets,  and  our  fertilizers  will  all  be  used  and  our 
wheat  fields  will  yield,  and  we  shall  have  bread  and  to  spare.  The 
Hessian  fly  and  chinch  bug  we  shall  conquer,  as  we  have  the  weevil. 
What  beauty,  what  majesty  in  vests  the  wheat  fields;  the  glamor 
of  the  ages  hangs  about  them.  From  the  old  tombs  of  Ahmen 
Hotep,  of  Cheops,  and  from  the  story  of  the  sower,  from  the 
old  alluvial  valleys  of  the  Indus,  Tigris  and  Nile,  from  everywhere 
in  all  ages,  we  read  the  story  of  the  wheat,  and  the  old  sacred 
writers  keep  it  always  before  us  as  a  fact  and  a  symbol.  Jesus 
taught  us  the  beautiful  Parable  of  the  Sower.  Paul  gave  us  the 
wheat  grain  to  teach  us  how  little  we  know  of  anything.  Hold- 
ing the  small  grain  in  his  hand  he  said  '  'Behold  I  show  you  a 
mystery".  We  know  not  anything  as  we  should  and  our  wheat 
field  declining  or  increasing  in  fertility  teach  us  that  clearly. 

I  feast  my  eyes  upon  the  wheat  fields  as  tney  grow  and 
green  in  Spring.  I  am  in  touch  with  their  glory  as  they  wave 
in  golden  promise  in  the  summer.  I  delight  to  see  the  binders 
get  them  ready  for  the  shockers.  I  joy  in  the  great  stacks  of 
ripened  grain,  I  can  look  up  to  God,  when  out  of  the  Mighty 
Thrashers  the  ripened  wheat  grains  pour  into  the  sacks  and  are 
carried  to  the  garners,  and  give  thanks. 

If  women  would,  they  could  go  into  the  fields  of  rye  and  oats 
and  wheat,  at  Harvest  time  and  make  good  wages.  It  is  not 
hard  work,  and  it  pays  well,  and  hands  are  needed. 


A  LOVE  STORY  135 

THE  RYE  FIELDS. 

Rye  is  a  hardy  grain  and  if  we  treat  it  right  will  make  our 
fields  more  fertile.  We  plant  it  in  the  early  fall,  and  chickens 
and  sheep  and  hogs  and  all  the  cattle  can  feed  upon  it  in  the 
winter  and  early  spring.  When  conditions  suit  we  let  it  grow 
till  almost  ready  to  head  out,  and  then  we  plough  it  under  and 
it  blesses  the  land  with  richness  in  humus.  We  plant  another 
crop,  cow  peas,  or  later  wheat,  upon  it  and  it  more  than  pays  us 
for  the  seed  we  sowed.  Sometimes  when  our  feed  runs  short 
the  rye  may  be  cut  just  before  the  grain  hardens,  and  it  makes 
fine  feed  for  horses  and  they  love  it.  We  cut  it  in  the  '  'dough" 
as  farmers  say,  and  cure  and  feed  it  just  like  hay. 

Poor  land  may  be  brought  up  by  successive  sowing  of  rye. 
The  bread  we  make  from  rye  is  liked  by  a  great  many  persons 
and  is  wholesome.  For  hogs  and  chickens  and  stock  the  rye 
makes  fine  food.  It  may  be  broad  casted  in  the  corn  fields  in 
August,  and  will  make  much  spring  and  winter  cropping  for 
stock;  then  we  can  plough  it  under  to  nourish  the  land  in  spring. 
It  is  hardy  and  productive,  and  endures  great  cold.  The  rye 
fields  are  lovely  in  the  spring  and  their  gray  green  color  as  they 
near  ripening  is  very  beautiful  to  me.  So  I  always  plant  some 
rye  upon  my  farm.  I  am  not  partial  to  '  'pumpernickle, ' '  the  black 
bread  made  from  rye.  I  like  rye  and  wheat  flour  mixed,  best 
as  bread. 


136  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

THE  OATS  FIELDS. 

The  oat  fields  are  beautiful  from  the  time  their  delicate 
green  breaks  the  brown  crust  of  the  earth  till  the  rich  green 
fades  to  a  greyish  green  and  then  turns  to  a  golden  yellow  in 
the  sun.  The  graceful  heads,  heavy  with  their  burden  for  man 
and  beast,  droop  like  little  bells  all  bunched  together.  When 
the  great  thrashing  machines  are'through  with  them  their  straw 
is  fine  for  beds  of  man  and  beast,  and  ranks  highest  in  the 
market  of  all  the  straws;  it  is  soft  and  yet  tenacious.  The 
grains  are  choice  for  young  stock  and  old,  and  wholesome  for 
the  human  race.  The  Scots,  rich  with  tenacity  of  purpose  and 
vigor  of  thinking,  from  Carlyle,  Burns  and  Scott,  down  to  the 
humblest  cottager  that  herds  his  sheep  "on  the  Grampian  hills" 
or  tills  the  rugged  soil,  is  strengthened,  brawnedand  sinewed  by 
oats  "parritch",  and  all  over  the  world  we  feed  beasts  and  men 
with  oats. 


A  LOVE  STORY 
THE  SPRINGS. 


137 


THE  BIG  SPRING. 

When  I  was  a  little  girl  I  visited  at  my  Grandmother's 
among  the  Ohio  Hills,  and  the  Springs,  of  which  there  were  a 
number  on  the  place,  were  a  fascination  to  me.  There  was  the 
great  spring  near  the  milk  house  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  and  near 
the  barn,  and  at  this  spring  the  girls,  my  Aunts,  strained  and 
skimmed  the  milk  and  set  it  in  long  troughs  where  the  cool  water 
that  gushed 'from  the  hill  ran  through  like  Tennyson's  brook,  for- 
ever and  forever,  and  there  the  rich  cream  was  made  into  the 
best  of  country  butter. 

Above  the  house  a  spring  came  down  through  a  rocky  field 
and  emptied  into  a  great  trough  in  the  door  yard,  and  the  cat- 
tle drank  on  the  field  side,  and  everybody  took  his  wash  in  the 
clear  water  on  the  yard  side,  and  from  here  the  wash  water 
was  carried  to  the  wash  house;  all  cooking  and  drinking  water 
was  brought  from  the  Springhouse  under  the  hill. 

A  few  hundred  feet  of  tile  or  gas  pipe  would  have  brought 
the  upper  spring  into  the  old  red  brick  farm  house  and  supplied 
ample  water  for  everything  and  left  plenty  for  the  cattle,  but 
the  old  gentlemen,  who  was  the  boss  and  no  kin  of  mine,  did 


138 


A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


not  see  it  that  way,  and  the  women  drudged  out  what  a  few 
dollars  would  have  saved  them,  and  they  earned  enough  to  do 
it,  but  it  was  not  their  wage  under  the  law,  so  they  were  help- 
less. I  loved  to  scrub  out  the  big  trough ;  I  loved  to  clean  out 
the  spring  and  tlje  channel  that  led  to  it;  I  loved  to  scratch  and 


clean  out  a  hole  at  the  root  of  an  old  tree  near  the  Springhouse, 
and  see  the  water  run  gurgling  into  it.  I  once  got  a  big  bull 
frog  in  my  hand  and  I  had  to  screech,  from  the  sudden  shock 
of  something  alive  and  unexpected  in  my  hand. 


WILD   CAT  HOLLOW. 


A  LOVE  STORY  139 

Ah,  the  springs,  how  much  they  stand  for  in  my  life.  Now 
on  my  farm  I  can  count  eleven  good  springs,  all  with  large  ba- 
sins, if  I  will,  and  a  free,  never  failing  flow  of  water,  and  plenty 
of  other  places  I  find  where  a  little  digging  would  open  a  way 
for  a  water  vein  to  get  out.  The  big  spring  nearest  the  house 
runs  barrels  of  water  every  day,  and  there  we  have  a  large 
trough  where  the  cattle  and  teams  can  drink  if  they  choose. 
Springs  do  not  freeze  much  even  in  the  coldest  weather;  their 
sources  the  cold  cannot  reach  and  water  comes  to  surface  without 
freezing  on  the  coldest  days.  I  have  two  other  springs  that  run' 
nearly  as  strongly,  and  there  are  others  that  do  not  run  so  free; 
one  reason  because  they  are  not  opened  well  enough,  but  pools 
of  water  that  never  dry  out,  show  us  where  and  what  they  are, 
and  my  cattle  need  never  go  thirsty.  Mosses  and  ferns  grow 
thick  about  them  and  the  grass  is  lush  and  sweet  along  their 
rims  and  the  cattle  love  it. 


CLIFF  SPRINGS. 


If  I  had  the  time  I'd  like  to  paddle  in  my  springs  now, 
as  I  did  in  those  careless  days  of  childhood.  I  see  that  they 
are  kept  open  when  needful,  and  that  they  flow  freely. 

The  Springs,  how  much  they  mean!    I  never  see  them  but 


140  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

to  admire  and  to  marvel  at  the  goodness  that  underlies  them, 
and  at  the  blessing  that  they  bring.  I  once  drank  from  a 
Great  Spring  of  sweet  water  in  the  Panhandle  Texas.  It  was, 
I  think  at  a  place  called  Reynolds  City  or  Hide  town,  but  there 
was  not  a  woman,  man,  child  or  building  of  any  kind  there;  but 
the  Spring  was  there;  and  the  water  was  not  the  horrid  Gyp 
water  of  that  region,  it  was  sweet  and  clear  and  cold,  and  we 
had  been  all  day  without  water  except  some  dregs  in  a  cask, 
but  here  we  drank,  and  here  we  filled  up  our  cask  afresh.  So 
this  Spring  and  my  Springs  and  the  Springs  on  my  Grand- 
mother's farm,  and  all  springs,  are  all  a  source  up  pleasure  to 
me. 


A  LOVE  STORY  141 

BLACK  CATTLE. 


I  had  a  hundred  head  of  cattle,  Polled  Angus,  or  Doddies, 
when  I  came  to  my  farm.  These  are  the  hornless  beefers  of 
the  lists.  They  are  usually  solid  black,  though  now  and  then 
a  tawny  calf  appears  that  has  the  color  and  style  of  ancestors 
used  in  the  productions  of  the  type.  The  polled  Angus  are  vig- 
orous and  take  on  flesh  easily  and  come  on  fast.  They  are  very 
hardy  and  are  good  to  each  other.  The  cows  are  good  mothers, 
but  poor  milkers  as  a  rule.  They  stand  by  each  other  and  at 
calving  the  herd  will  help  a  mother  and  a  calf  so  that  it  is  rare 
for  one  to  be  lost  even  in  the  coldest  weather.  The  herd  make 
common  cause  against  intruders.  In  going  through  my  pas- 
tures I  drove.  To  meet  a  hundred  head  of  black  creatures  with 
heads  and  eyes  all  set  on  me  was  just  a  little  more  than  I  could 
stand,  and  when  "Laddie,"  the  lord  of  the  herd,  in  serene 
majesty  and  conscious  of  his  strength,  gazed  camly  and  steadily 
at  me,  I  felt  like  telling  him  "I'd  be  good".  When  the  whim 
seized  them  they'd  turn  tail  and  gallop  off  like  buffalo  and  out 
of  sight  among  the  hills  and  hollows.  I  found  them  hard  to 
handle;  the  old  Highland  blood  runs  riotous  at  times  and  if  they 
set  their  heads  at  it,  they  do  things.  I  sold  a  lot  of  yearlings 
and  four  men  started  to  drive  them.  They  got  along  well 
enough  until  they  saw  a  railroad  train.  Wild  with  terror,  their 
old  native  blood  awoke  and  trusting  to  themselves,  not  men, 
they  broke  and  ran, —Everywhere.  One  uncoupled  its  back 
jumping  a  ditch;  two  were  lost,  but  later  were  rounded  up; 
after  a  "time  of  it"  they  reached  their  destination. 

Later  I  sold  a  lot  of  calves  to  the  same  party  and  he  brought 
wagons  with  great  racks  and  trussed  the  calves  like  fowls  and 
hauled  them  off.  It  was  the  most  merciful  and  best  way  for 


142  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

them  to  go.  With  all  the  virtues  of  the  Doddies,  I  prefer  other 
cattle.  I  dispersed  my  herd.  I  concluded  it  was  not  well  for 
me  to  keep  so  many  cattle.  They  eat  one  up.  The  feeding  of 
cattle,  like  many  other  branches  of  farm  business  is  a  problem, 
and  I  am  not  up  to  it  on  the  large,  so  to  study  and  decide,  the 
herd  of  Black  Cattle  was  dispersed. 


A  LOVE  STORY 
THE  WHITE  FACE  CATTLE. 


143 


I  bought  me  a  herd  of  Herford  cattle.  There  were  six 
cows,  all  pedigreed,  when  I  began  and  now  I  have  some  more. 
They  are  gentle,  and  I  like  them  better  than  any  other  cattle. 
They  will  look  well  when  other  cattle  do  not  thrive  so  well  so  I  pre- 
fer them.  I  admire  their  color,  red  and  white,  with  great  white 
faces.  They  are  hardy  and  handsome  and  gentle,  so  I  intend 
to  keep  them  on  my  farm.  My  neighbors  tell  me  that  to  cross 
them  with  the  Short  Horns  makes  big  cows  and  fine  milkers, 
and  I  observe  that  this  is  so.  I  do  not  know  how  rich  their 
milk  is  as  I  have  not  investigated  that,  but  I  know  they  give 
large  quantities  of  milk  and  are  very  large.  I  have  some  cattle 
that  are  of  mixed  blood  but  the  bulk  of  are  Herfords.  They 
are  good  mothers  and  good  breeders — and  rank  high  in  the 
markets,  the  best  of  all  perhaps. 


144  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

THE  SHEEP. 


'  'The  sheep,  I  have  observed,  in  the  long  run  of  the  years  have 
been  the  farmers  most  profitable  asset".  John  Sligar. 

I  keep  sheep;  they  are  my  lawn  mowers;  where  we  used  to 
have  weeds  on  my  farm  we  now  have  a  short  green  turf,  and 
where  the  sheep  run,  the  grass  and  soil  improves  steadily;  they 
are  natural  spreaders  of  enrichment.  The  fence  lines  and 
corners,  soon  come  to  good  sod,  devoid  of  weeds  when  the  sheep 
have  access  to  them.  They  trim  hazel  brush  and  briars,  and 
young  growth  of  all  sorts  till  much  of  it  dies,  and  the  remainder 
of  it  is  easy  to  cut  by  the  farmer.  Places  so  dense  that  one  can 
hardly  get  through,  the  sheep  soon  shear  till  they  are  easy  of 
access  and  to  the  brush  scythes.  A  successful  farmer  told  me 
he  always  kept  sheep  to  bring  up  his  land.  One  has  to  care  for 
sheep,  as  well  as  hogs,  but  it  pays.  I  keep  the  Shropshires,  they 
are  hardy  and  an  all  round  good  sheep.  I  love  to  see  the  lambs 
come,  b^t  I  hate  to  sell  the  young  ones  when  they  are  ready  for 
market.  The  only  thing  about  the  sheep  that  worries  me 
is  its  mournful  cry;  they  seem  so  troubled  often  about  things. 
Sometimes  they  jump  the  fences,  but  in  the  main  they  are  tract- 
able enough. 

Holy  Writ  has  so  many  lovely  things  about  the  sheep  and 
the  lambs.  The  lambs  are  always  seen  in  Holy  pictures,  and 
Jesus  who  was  slain  for  others  is  called  the  good  Shepard  all  we  are 
sheep.  David,  the  Psalmist  tended  sheep  and  grew  in  wisdom 
and  knowlege  and  power.  We  call  our  children  lambs,  after 
the  young  of  the  sheep,  and  Jesus,  their  tender  shepard.  My 
sheep  are  dear  to  me  for  many  reasons,  and  I  would  not  be 
without  them.  They  are  adorn  afarml  think;  besides  being  of 
use  in  so  many  ways,  and  of  value  too. 


A  LOVE  STORY  145 

THE  MAKING  OF  A  FIELD. 

Here  is  a  piece  of  ground  I  desire  to  make  a  field  of.  Many 
trees  grow  upon  it;  oaks  of  various  kinds  and  hickory  and  maple 
and  others.  The  earth  is  littered  with  logs  and  limbs  and  trash 
and  much  brush  grows  there  also.  All  of  this  must  be  disposed 
of  if  I  make  a  field.  The  men  go  upon  the  ground  with  cross 
cut  saws,  and  axes  ringing,  and  boom — down  comes  a  great  tree 
to  the  earth.  You  marvel  at  the  skill  with  which  the  workmen 
fell  the  tree  and  at  their  ability  to  make  it  fall  just  where  they 
want  it.  It  is  an  art  that  has  been  taught  us  yearly  by  men 
who  are  experts  at  it,  but  the  old  time  woodman  with  his  skill 
will  soon  be  no  more,  as  our  forests  disappear.  The  axes  take 
off  the  tree  branches,  the  saws  cut  the  trunk  into  post  lengths, 
the  axes  split  the  logs  into  posts  and  they  are  stacked;  The 
best  of  the  limbs  will  be  hauled  in  for  wood,  the  small  branches 
piled  on  the  stumps  for  burning.  You  now  lay  out  the  fence 
line,  the  men  follow  with  the  post  hole  diggers,  the  posts  are 
dumped  in  and  tamped,  the  wire  is  strung  and  stretched.  Then 
comes  the  burning  of  the  logs  and  stumps  and  trash,  the  cut- 
ting of  brush  and  the  field  is  made  ready  for  the  plough,  I  saw 
to  the  making  of  six  large  new  fields,  and  where  the  cattle 
grazed,  the  earth  was  broken  by  the  plough  shares  for  the 
first  time  since  the  world  began— and  corn  and  oats  and  wheat 
and  clover  and  other  tame  things  grow,  where  once  the  grasses 
and  the  trees  and  brush  and  cattle  had  possession.  One  rejoices 
in  something  done  and  in  a  new  field  accomplished. 

Sometimes  I  make  a  field  in  haste  and  clear  and  clean  the 
earth  and  plough  but  let  the  trees  stand.  In  June  when  the 
sign  is  in  the  heart  we  deaden  them  and  they  die  at  once,  and 
we  raise  good  corn  in  such  a  field.  The  time  of  deadening  is 
most  important.  They  die  at  once  when  deadened  in  the  sign, 
but  linger  if  not  cut  then,  sometimes  leafing  out  a  second  year. 
So  we  are  obedient  to  the  laws  of  life,  and  deaden  when  the  sign 
is  right.  We  can  cut  them  down  when  the  crops  are  out  of  the 
field,  and  so  we  make  a  field. 


146 


A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


I  AM  ARRESTED  AND  FINED  $20  AND  COSTS. 


Once,  with  three  other  women, 
I  tore  down  a  picture  of  a  half  nude 
woman  advertising  a  bad  show  in 
Effingham. 

The  show  was  admitted  to  be  a 
bad  one  and  the  papers  all  about  us 
in  adjoining  counties  had  scorned  it. 
It  was  a  female  minstrel  show. 

The  picture  was  hung  in  front 
of  the  post  office  door.  The  post- 
master was  asked  to  remove  it,  but 
he  was  a  political  slave,  and  of  the 
same  color  as  the  opera  house  people 
in  politics,  so  he  refused  to  do  any- 
thing. There  were  others,  but  we 
made  the  attack  on  the  one  in  front 
of  the  post  office  door. 

A  Baptist  Aid  Society  was  quilt- 
ing a  bed  cover  for  the  good  of  the 
church  at  a  friends  house,  and 
we  went  there  to  start  and  have 

a  prayer,  for  we  were  going  to  break  the  law  and  we  needed  to 
call  on  the  highest  power  we  knew  for  aid.  We  women  had  no 
ballots  and  no  political  influence  and  no  power  to  keep  our  town 
clean  from  corrupting  influences,  so  we  took  the  law  in  our  own 
hands  as  we  had  a  right  to  do,  and  as  people  have  always  done 
when  law  is  inoperative.  We  went  forth  firm  in  the  faith 
that  the  Lord  whose  children  we  cared  for,  would  care  for  and 
protect  us. 

We  tore  the  picture  down;  we  wadded  it  up  and  threw  it  in 
the  street,  and  we  all  laid  hands  upon  it,  we  all  wanted  to  help 
tear  it  down,  and  then  we  went  home.  It  was  not  long  after 
that  I  heard  a  man's  feet  pounding  on  my  sidewalk,  and  I  said, 
"It's  you  the're  after",  and  the  City  Marshal,  a  red  headed  man 
with  a  fierce  air,  came  stamping  into  my  house  and  notified  me  I 
was  arrested,  and  must  appear  before  the  Police  Justice  at  7  p.  m. 
that  day.  The  story  flew  like  wildfire  over  the  town  and  a 


My  Attorney 

HENRY  B.  KEPLEY 


A  LOVE  STORY  147 

crowd  gathered.  A  demand  was  made  for  time  to  prepare  for 
trial;  the  Justice  refused.  A  change  of  Venue  was  taken,  and 
I  think  the  following  evening  at  7  p.  m.  was  set  for  the  trial. 
I  was  to  be  made  an  example  of,  it  soon  appeared.  The  Pro- 
secution got  the  loudest  mouthed  brawler  they  could  find  to  as- 
sist the  prosecutor.  Mr.  Kepley  defended  me,  and  when  the 
trial  came  off  the  Court  House  to  which  the  adjournment  was 
taken,  was  packed  with  friends  and  foes. 

Uproarous  applause  from  first  one  side  and  then  the  other 
broke  out  at  various  points  in  the  trial.  Mr.  Kepley  gave  the 
"enemy"  such  a  dose  as  was  good  for  their  souls.  I  kept  still. 
The  J.  P.  was  not  friendly— he  really  posed  as  a  friend  of  the 
liquor  element  and  they  were  all  at  the  trial, —for  they  elected 
him  with  great  regularity.  He  had  a  fine  chance  to  please  them, 
and  he  did.  Nothing  could  have  saved  me  in  his  court  as  we 
all  well  knew.  At  the  close  he  administered  what  he  considered 
a  scathing  rebuke  to  me,  and  fined  me  $20.  and  costs  because  my 
offence  was  such  an  awful  one,  and  because  it  was  "me",  he  said. 
This  was  over  six  times  as  much  as  the  vilest  man  would  have 
been  fined  for  any  offence  against  the  City  ordinances.  Cheers 
hisses  and  cat  calls  greeted  his  verdict. 

Mr.  Kepley  took  an  appeal  for  me  to  the  Circuit  Court. 
What  the  J.  P.  read  about  himself  and  his  verdict  in  the  pa- 
pers in  our  section  of  the  earth  after  that  trial,  made  him  mad, 
and  he  would  not  speak  to  me  for  a  long  while. 

When  Circuit  Court  set  and  my  case  came  on  Judge  W.  B. 
Wright  of  the  Effingham  bar  volunteered  in  my  defense,  and 
Mr.  Kepley  looked  after  my  interests.  I  felt  moved  to  speak 
in  my  own  defense  also.  I  laid  down  the  fundamental  doc- 
trines of  purity.  I  had  ranged  six  months  over  a  large  field  of 
study  in  the  preparation  for  that  short  address  I  made.  The 
Prosecutor,  after  I  spoke,  told  the  Judge  he  had  nothing  to  say, 
and  I  thanked  God.  He  had  said  such  dreadful  things  before, 
I  was  hardly  able  to  bear  it,  and  I  dreaded  what  he  might  say 
again.  I  shed  many  tears  and  cried  unto  God  often  for  sustain- 
ing grace,  but  I  held  out,  my  husband  and  friends  backing  me. 
I  dreaded  the  sustaining  of  the  verdict  of  the  lower  court,  for 
that  would  have  operated  against  the  purity  work  that  needed 
doing.  Judge  Wm.  C.  Jones  of  the  Circuit  Bench  reversed  the 


148  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

verdict  of  the  Justice  of  the  Peace  and  said  that  under  the 
circumstances  he  would  have  done  the  same  thing  himself.  So 
this  great  "pow  wow"  of  the  J.  P's  Court,  with  its  $20.  fine  and 
costs  ended,  and  our  purity  work  was  better  known,  and  was 
strengthened. 


A  LOVE  STORY  149 

SONG -WE'VE  SIGNT  DOT  PLEDGE. 

TUNE  JOLLY  JONATHAN. 

Ach,  yes,  mine  vriend  ve  lofe  it, 

Ve  lofe  dot  lager  bier, 

Ve  lofe  it  hier,  ve  lofe  it  dere, 

Ve  lofe  it  every  vere.  i 

Es  macht  uns  feel  sehr  gut, 

Es  tuht  dose  feelinks  joy, 

But  lasst  uns  dells  you  vile  you're  hier, 

Ve're  going  to  go  it  by. 

CHORUS. 

Ve  gifs  it  up,  Ve  gifs  it  up, 
Oh  yah,  ve  goes  it  by, 
Ve've  signt  dot  pledge, 
Ve've  signt  dot  pledge, 
Und  now  ve  dells  you  vy. 

Ven  ve  vas  Jung  und  harty, 

Ve  drunk  dot  ein  glass  bier, 

Ve  felt  so  fine,  ve  felt  so  Jung, 

Ve  nefer  hat  ein  fear, 

Ve  had  our  fraus  und  kinder, 

Ve  lofed  dem  awful  dear, 

Ve  also  lofed,  ve  immer  drunk, 

Dot  ein  glass  lager  bier.     (Chorus.) 

But  ein  glass  bald  vas  zwei  glass, 

Und  zwei  glass  bald  vas  drei, 

Und  vierten,  funften,  sexten,  seibenten, 

Quivkly  put  ve  by. 

Und  achtzehn,  neunzehn,  zwanzig, 

Ach!  it  vas  immer  mehr, 

Ve  could  not  stop, 

Ve  always  drunk, 

Noch  immer  mehr  and  mehr.      (Chorus.) 

Ve  staid  dot  saloon  in, 

Ve  stopped  dot  vorkshop  oudt, 

Dose  shiltern  gried, 

Dose  wifes  dey  sait, 


150  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

Dere  lifes  vas  quite  vore  oudt. 

For  ye  vould  come  home  dipsey, 

Our  moneys  all  vas  oudt, 

Dose  frau's  must  take  some  vashings  in, 

To  help  dose  families  oudt.     (Chorus.) 

Our  bodies  shvelled  dot  big, 
Our  closes  soon  bust  oudt, 
Dot  saloon  man  he  sait  it  was 
Because  ve  ade  sauer  kraut, 
Our  noses  dey  grew  ret, 
Our  eyes  dey  did  stick  oudt, 
Und  vas  so  ret  as  flannel  rags, — 
Dot  vas  not  sauer  kraut.     (Chorus.) 

Our  bokets  dey  vas  embdy, 

Our  toes  dose  shoes  stuck  oudt, 

Dot  saloon  man  begun  to  say: 

"Old  Drunkard  git  you  oudt." 

Ve  drunk  his  bier  und  visky, 

Till  our  moneys  all  was  oudt, 

He  would  not  GIF  us  any  more, 

BECAUSE,  our  cash  vas  oudt.     (Chorus.) 

Dose  beeples  pass  uns  bei, 

Dere  eyes  look  sideways  oudt, 

To  see  our  rags  to  see  our  shame, 

Vir  kan  nicht  stand  it  oudt; 

De  schiltern  run  and  gry, 

Dey  go  dot  sidewalk  oudt, 

Vhene'er  dey  see  us  comin  by 

Is  hushed  dere  happy  shoudt.      (Chorus.) 

Nun,  frau,  und  kind  und  closes, 

Ind  embdy  bockets  oud, 

Und  nose  und  eyes,  und  shoeses  bust, 

It  makes  us  dink  quite  sount, 

Ve  say  "good  by  old  visky", 

Ve  say  to  lager  bier, 

"Goot  by,  goot  by,  old  body  rot" 

Ve  drinks  you  niemals  mehr. 


A  LOVE  STORY  151 

* 

CHORUS 

Old  visky  hot,  old  body  rot, 
Oh  yah,  ve  goes  it  bei, 
We've  signed  dot  pledge, 
We've  signt  dot  pledge, 
Und  now  we've  doldt  you  vy. 

This  song  was  sung  by  some  big  German  boys  dressed  as 
the  song  describes,  at  a  childrens'  meeting  we  held  in  The 
Temple.  -^— - 


152  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

SO! 

Wm.  Dean  Howells  does  not  shun  publicity,  and  he  gets  his 
share  of  it.  He  says  he  used  to  formerly  greatly  enjoy  favor- 
able press  notices  of  his  books,  and  owns  to  having  carried 
them  about  like  love  letters.  Mr.  Howells  talks  of  his  work, 
and  he  sees  nothing  immodest  in  it.  Some  do  not  understand 
why  so  many  modern  writers  so  obviously  affect  to  ignore  their 
own  work  and  refrain  from  speaking  about  it.  Nearly  all 
writers  are  proud  of  their  literary  performances  and  of  whatever 
distinction  they  may  have  gained.— Exchange. 


A  LOVE  STORY  153 

RAG  CARPETS  AND  RUGS. 

One  of  the  largest  industries  among  women  and  which  gets 
but  little  notice  is  Rag  Carpet  making.  I  sometimes  smile  when 
I  read  the  denunciations  of  women  as  wasters  and  extravagan- 
cers.  It  seems  to  me  that  men  who  are  the  main  calamity 
howlers  would  do  well  to  mend  their  own  ways.  Their  tobacco 
and  liquor  bills  would  pay  the  extravagances  of  women  over  and 
over  again.  While  it  is  true  some  women  are  extravagant,  the 
most  of  women  are  not  so.  They  work  without  wages  for  their 
board  and  clothes  the  larger  part  of  them,  and  their  husbands, 
sons,  brothers,  fathers,  etc,  handle  and  keep  and  spend  their 
wages,  without  even  saying  "by  your  leave". 

Every  were  the  hum  of  sewing  machines  in  the  homes  testity 
to  the  constructive  labor  of  women.  The  wash  tub,  and  wash 
board  and  boiler,  the  three  times  three  each  day  at  stove  and 
dish  pan,  and  the  seven  times  fifty-two  of  the  year  demonstrates 
her  industry  and  her  saving,  and  conservation  of  men  and  things. 
She  goes  down  the  way  of  death  that  men  may  be,  and  does  not 
even  demand  a  nurse.  When  things  are  worn  out  and  played 
out,  she  gathers  up  the  rags,  and  wonderful  quilts  and  comfort- 
ers appear,  and  the  rag  rug  and  rag  carpet,  made  of  rags  torn 
and  cut  and  sewed  goes  to  the  weaver,  and  returns,  by  the  million 
yards  each  year.  The  rag  carpet  is  a  staple  and  stable.  From 
the  weaver  the  rags  come  back  in  beautiful  and  useful  and  com- 
fortable coverings  for  the  bare  floors,  of  the  farm  house  and  the 
town  houses  too,  and  the  skill  and  genius  of  the  woman  appears 
in  the  fine  woof  and  warp  in  them,  and  the  contrast  of  gay  or  som- 
ber colors  in  carpets  and  rugs.  When  the  United  States  Census 
is  taken  so  stupid  are  we,  that  never  yet  has  this  tremendous  in- 
dustry secured  the  least  notice  in  its  pages,  and  yet  the  carpets 
and  rugs  are  on  all  of  our  farms,  and  many  of  us  depend  on 
them  in  town. 

So  little  is  made  of  the  industries  women  engage  in.  The  rag 
carpet  makers  of  America,  could  have  in  the  past  and  now 
belted  the  Globe  time  and  again  with  the  rags  they  tear  and  weave 
into  beautiful  and  useful  carpets.  I  have  in  my  time  made  al- 
most one  thousand  yards  of  rag  carpet,  and  rag  rugs,  and  still 
make  some.  The  farmer  women  everywhere  vie  with  each  other 


154  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

to  produce  fine  carpets,  and  the  warp  from  the  factories  for 
these  woven  treasures  of  the  farm  amounts  to  a  goodly  sum,  as 
does  the  cash  which  goes  for  dyes— and  weaving,  in  the  pro- 
ductions, of  rag  carpets  and  rugs. 


A  LOVE  STORY  155 

WITH  A  CHRISTMAS  OFFERING. 

A  SONNET. 

Far,  far  away  I  hear  sweet  voices  sing, 

Neath  summer  skies    that  smile  o'er  fields  of  snow, 

That  melt  not  in  the  sunlight's  ardent  glow; 

The  breezes  blow,  and  merry  voices  ring, 

It  is  the  flowers'  time  of  blossoming; 

But  see,  the  snow  is  melting,  and  'twill  flow, 

Strange  sight— in  bag  and  basket  stately  slow, 

To  gin,  to  press,  to  rattling  mill,  and  Ho! 

We  have  King  Cotton  in  the  Nation's  marts. 

Good  house-wives  when  the  Northern  blasts  so  fierce 

Bluster  through  crack  and  cranny,  howl  at  arts     . 

To  keep  them  out— good  house-wives,  pile  and  pierce 

Good  cotton's  downy  fleeces  till  apart, 

They  cannot  come;  and  underneath  their  folds 

We  lie  and  sleep,  warm,  cosy,  comfortable. 


156  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

THE  THRASHERS. 

Now  you  strike  an  exciting  theme.  When  will  the  thrash- 
ers be  here?  One  can  never  tell  how  long  it  will  be,  and  just 
when,  for  there  is  no  absolute  rule  that  one  can  use  to  tell  just 
how  long  it  will  take  to  thrash  out  a  certain  job,  and  who  can 
tell  when  the  great  engine,  that  is  a  willing  servant  of  man, 
may  break  down  somewhere  and  have  to  be  repaired,  and  who 
can  tell  what  crossing  or  bridge  may  cave  in  and  leave  the  en- 
gine in  the  ditch,  one  end  up  and  the  other  end  down,  to  wal- 
low fike  a  trapped  buffalo,  till  it  can  be  heaved  up  and  pried 
out?  Then,  there  are  the  jobs  that  come  in  the  neighborhoods 
unexpected,  and  the  thrashers  work  neighborhoods  as  a  rule  in 
rotation.  So,  when  will  the  thrashers  be  here,  is  not  a  certain 
thing,  and  the  farm  women,  who  like  to  have  cakes  and  pies 
and  all  sorts  of  good  things  to  eat,  must  hustle  when  the 
crowd  and  the  thrashing  machine  comes  or  they  hear  it's  on 
its  way;  the  telephone  helps  now  a  days. 

Like  the  haymaking,  the  thrashing  is  a  festival,  for  the 
neighbors  come  together  to  help  each  other,  and  they  go  from 
house  to  house  in  the  neighborhoods.  There  are  men  on  the 
stacks  to  feed  the  engine's  hungry  maw,  there  are  men  with 
boys  and  wagons  to  haul  the  thrashed  grain  to  the  graineries, 
there  are  men  on  the  exit  of  the  straw  as  it  pours  out  in  a 
stream  from  the  spout,  to  be  stacked  for  bailing,  or  to 
feed  the  cattle  in  the  winter  time.  It  is  the  worst  place  in  the 
thrashing  for  the  dust  that  flies  gives  some  men  dust  chills,  and 
it  is  a  dreadfully  dirty  place.  Most  men  shun  it.  Hereafter, 
when  I  thrash  I  shall  give  the  men  masks  for  noses  and  throats, 
like  stone  cutters  wear.  There  are  men  with  the  tank  who 
haul  water,  for  that  is  usually  necessary  on  the  farms  and  the 
big  horses  have  to  pull.  The  man  on  the  engine,  and  the  tank 
man  feed  the  fires  under  the  boiler  and  guide  the  big  machine, 
and  it  puffs  and  blows  and  smokes  and  rattles  as  wheat  and 
oats  and  clover  and  timothy  run  through  it  with  their  rich  re- 
turns in  seed.  The  men  are  merry  and  busy,  and  everybody 
seems  to  be  at  the  place  he  fits  in  best,  for  the  skill  of  each  is 
known.  The  whistle  blows;  it's  dinner  time,  and  the  women 
make  their  offerings  to  the  hungry,  thirsty  men,  and  hear 


A  LOVE  STORY  157 

praise  of  their  tables  that  is  pleasing.  The  women  try  them- 
selves to  set  good  tables  for,  as  the  thrashers  go  from  house  to 
house,  no  women  wants  to  fall  behind  any  other.  And  how 
they  eat,  and  enjoy  the  food,  and  crack  jokes,  and  tell  the  last 
piece  of  news,  and  all  in  friendliness.  Real  manners  are  not 
wanting,  for  your  farmer  is  a  gentleman  in  every  sense,  and 
the  women  are  true  ladies.  There  often  come  rest  spells  when 
something  goes  wrong  with  the  engine,  which  is  not  always 
new,  and  at  last  the  day  ends;  everybody  has  had  a  good  time; 
you  pay  your  bills  count  your  grain,  and  the  thrasher  man  pulls 
out  to  a  new  place,  and  your  rejoice  in  that  task  ended. 


158  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

DO  HOGS  THINK?     WELL  I'D  SAY,  YES. 
"Pi-goo,  Pi-goo."     The  farm  call  for  Pigs. 

When  my  farm  came  to  me  I  found  about  thirty  head  of 
hogs  upon  it,  mostly  the  Red  Duroc  Jersey  breed.  "Old  Mason" 
the  head  of  the  herd,  was  pedigreed,  and  some  of  the  sows  like- 
wise. The  Duroc  Jerseys  are  a  hardy  and  prolific  stock'  and 
are  generally  in  favor.  One  can  raise  pigs  when  they  are 
handled.  I  had  good  luck  with  hogs  and  could  have  always 
raised  more  than  I  could  manage.  I  read  seed  catalogues,  agri- 
cultural papers  and  essays,  and  I  ploughed  my  hog  lots  which 
had  never  been  stirred,  and  put  in  hog  lot  mixtures  good  and 
thick:  and  rape,  that  is  fine  feed,  I  sowed  it— the  lots  were  rich 
for  the  hogs  had  long  run  on  them,  and  when  the  ploughs  broke 
the  stiff  earth,  things  grew.  I  did  not  want  to  feed  my  pigs 
on  corn  when  the  weather  became  hot  for  I  noticed  cholera,  that 
scourge  if  the  hog  lots,  was  apt  to  break  out  afterwards.  I  liked 
to  keep  my  growing  pigs  on  rape  and  clover  and  grass  and  on 
green  growing  mixtures,  and  they  grew  and  got  ready  for  fat- 
tening when  the  days  grew  cold.  We  burned  stumps  and  logs 
and  they  got  charcoal  and  ashes;  the  charcoal  they  crunched 
like  candy;  the  ashes  they'd  lick  up  to  the  coals  as  the  fires 
burned.  Rock  salt  was  always  at  hand,  and  to  see  pigs  quarrel- 
ling at  the  box,  when  too  many  wanted  to  lick  that  lump  of  de- 
light at  one  time,  was  funny.  Spring  water  and  pond  water 
they  had,  and  we  had  no  diseases.  The  hog,  whose  name  is  a 
synonym  for  filth,  is  a  cleanly  beast  if  it  only  has  a  chance. 
They  love  the  mud  bath,  as  it  keeps  them  clean  of  vermin,  and 
as  hogs  suffer  from  the  heat,  and  only  sweat  in  a  small  place 
on  their  legs  it  is  said,  they  need  the  mud  bath  and  water.  It 
always  seemed  to  me  that  the  Duroc  must  be  near  of  kin  to  the 
wild  pigs,  they  are  rustlers  for  a  fact,  can  take  care  of  them- 
selves and  are  wise,  and  can  think.  I  came  into  my  farm  one  fall 
evening  late,  just  before  the  dark  came  on,  and  I  saw  two  big 
red  sows  marching  up  through  my  young  orchard,  heading  to- 
wards a  field  of  corn  in  the  shock.  They  were  calling  all  the 
pigs  on  the  place  to  come  along  with  them.  This  is  what  they 
said,  or  what  I  understood  them  to  say,  '  'High,  high,  you  pigs 
—young  and  old— all  of  you  come  along  with  us,  we  know  where 


A  LOVE  STORY  159 

there  is  a  lot  of  nice  corn  just  ready  to  eat  in  a  field  up  here; 
we  are  going  to  tear  down  the  fence  and  get  in  and  you  can  all 
go  too— hurry,  hurry,  hurry  up";  and  running,  trotting,  squeal- 
ing and  grunting,  the  whole  herd  raced  and  romped  and  frolicked 
at  the  call  of  the  two  sows,  and  as  the  old  girls  marched,  deter- 
mination emanated  from  them.  I  hurried  my  team  down  the 
lane  and  said  "run  quick,  the  big  sows  are  taking  all  the  pigs 
up  into  the  corn  field  and  they  intend  to  break  down  the  fence  and 
get  in".  Away  went  the  men,  and  sure  enough,  the  sows  with 
their  strong  jaws  tore  boards  enough  off  the  fence  to  let  the 
whole  gang  into  the  corn,  but  alas,  the  men  drove  them  out  and 
back,  the  way  they  went  in,  and  they  were  coralled  for  the 
night.  I  had  two  rape  patches  adjacent.  I'd  give  the  hogs  one 
and  let  them  to  the  other  when  the  first  was  eaten  down,  but 
those  hogs  in  spite  of  me,  would  take  things  in  hand  and  they'd 
root  and  butt  and  tear  till  they  got  into  the  new  patch.  They 
regulated  me  at  times  and  I  did  not  like  the  scheme.  I  ran  upon 
a  young  sow  in  the  bottom  one  raw  day  in  November.  I  was 
gathering  walnuts  and  the  dogs  were  seen  by  the  sow,  and  she 
charged  them.  She  had  made  an  immense  big  nest  of  grass  in 
the  open  with  no  shelter  and  there  she  had  five  fat  little  pigs 
about  whom  she  was  much  concerned.  I  called  the  noisy  dogs 
away,  and  she  went  to  her  babies;  a  raw  south  wind  was  blow- 
ing and  it  was  spitting  snow  and  was  very  disagreeable;  the 
pigs  in  the  nest  squalled  and  complained  and  fussed,  and  their 
Mother  worried.  Finally  she  turned  her  back  to  the  south, 
sunk  deep  in  her  nest  and  made  a  shelter  for  the  little  ones, 
and  they  were  contented.  Oh,  she  thought  and,  Duroc  Jersey- 
like,  she  skirmished  out  of  her  troubles  without  difficulty.  We 
took  her  to  a  pen  later  on.  She  thought  it  all  out,  I  could  see 
her  mind  working,  as  her  young  ones  squalled  their  troubles  to 
her. 

I  sold  these  pigs  finally,  some  of  them  always  had  a  scheme 
on  hand,  and  about  the  time  everybody  was  the  busiest  the  cry 
would  come  "the  pigs  are  out"  and  we  all  had  to  drop 
things  and  run  and  fix  up  torn  down  places,  and  hustle  pigs  back 
to  their  lots. 

Leigh  Hunt  tells  the  story  of  an  Irishman  who  was  driving 
a  pig.  He  said  to  the  man,  "Where  are  you  taking  that  pig"? 


160  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

In  a  loud  voice  the  pig  driver  said  "To  Cork",  but  he  leaned 
over  and  in  a  mysterious  whisper  told  his  questioner  he  was 
going  in  exactly  the  opposite  direction,  but  he  said  '  'If  the  pig 
finds  it  out,  I'll  never  get  him  there". 

An  old  man  once  came  to  me  to  buy  hogs.  He  offered  me 
5  1-2  cents,  and  I  asked  him  6  cents  a  pound.  He  declared  he 
would  not  give  it,  but  he  asked  to  see  the  pigs.  It  was  a  nice 
gang  just  ready  to  fatten,  and  I  did  not  care  if  I  sold  them  at 
all,  so  I  said  "I  can't  leave  here  for  I  am  driving  for  this  man 
who  is  fixing  the  road  and  if  I  go,  two  of  us  will  be  off  time. 
You  go  down  to  the  hog  lot  and  call  the  pigs;  they  will  not  come 
for  me,  they  are  wonted  to  the  men".  He  came  back  presently 
as  mad  as  could  be.  He  said,  '  1  called  those  pigs  and  as  soon 
as  they  saw  me  they  all  ran  off",  and  away  he  went  in  wrath. 
I  sat  down  and  laughed  and  laughed.  He  was  such  a  fat  old 
man  and  he  looked  so  very  much  like  a  brother  to  the  animals 
he  wanted  to  buy,  and  I  think  the  pigs  knew  all  about  him  as 
soon  as  they  saw  him,  and  so  they  ran  off;  one  look  was  enough 
for  them.  Oh  yes,  pigs  think  a  whole  lot. 


- 


A  LOVE  STORY 
HAYMAKING. 


161 


SOME  OF  MY  HAYMAKERS. 

"Maude  Muller  on  a  summer  day. 
Raked  the  meadows  sweet  with  hay". 


Whittle  r. 


When  I  came  upon  my  farm  I  found  no  meadows.  Hay  had 
been  raised  on  outlying  places.  The  farm  had  been  used  for 
grazing  mainly.  I  wanted  meadows  and,  as  I  no  longer  in- 
tended to  raise  so  many  cattle,  I  put  some  broken  land  into 
grass  and  clover,  and  some  fields,  and  I  soon  had  hay  ready  for 
making. 

The  mower  goes  round  and  round  behind  the  patient  horses, 
and  the  grass  and  clover  falls  in  smooth  swaths.  The  hay  rake 
follows  and  draws  the  dry  grass  in  long,  large  windrows.  Then 
come  the  cockers  or  the  wagons,  if  you  have  no  stacker,  and 
the  hay  is  hauled  to  the  stack  site  which  has  been  prepared  with 
rails  or  poles  as  a  bottom,  and  the  stack  men  take  it.  The  men 
who  make  the  stacks  possess  an  art  and  usually  get  a  little  bet- 
ter pay.  Haying  always  pays  better  wages  than  the  regular 
farm  work.  Haying  time  is  a  festival  time  too,  on  the  farms. 
The  men  get  together  and  all  sorts  of  subjects  are  discussed  at 


162  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


WITH  JO  AND  JOKER  AFTER  THE  DAY'S  WORK  IS  DONE. 

the  noon  hour,  in  the  intervals  of  the  work,  and  in  riding  to  and 
fro  to  the  fields.  Many  a  politician's  fate  is  settled  in  the  hay 
fields.  Sometimes  a  stack  upsets  and  the  momentary  shock  and 
the  joking  that  results,  is  good  for  everybody.  The  hay  for  the 
barns  is  to  be  hauled  in  and  packed  away;  we  pray  for  good  dry 
weather  at  the  haying  time,  and  plenty  of  it.  It  wastes  time, 
money  and  patience  to  make  hay  between  showers.  The  small 
boy  has  fun  and  money  if  we  want  his  services  to  haul  in  hay 
cocks;  the  job  is  just  his  size. 

I  ride  the  rake,  that  springless"  vehicle  except  for  the  trip 
spring,  and  I  enjoy  the  task,  though  it  is  quite  hard.  I  rake 
all  the  hay  and  then  I  know  my  hay  fields  by  heart.  My  little 
horses  Dan  and  Don  are  gentle  and  obey  my  every  word.  If  I 
get  too  tired  I  get  off  the  rake  and  let  the  horses  eat  at  some 
big  windrow,  and  I  lie  down  on  it;  the  dogs  gather  round  me, 
the  horses  munch  the  hay,  and  I  gaze  into  the  sky,  and  soon 
become  refreshed  and  rested,  as  are  the  horses,  and  I'm  off 
again.  My  land  is  not  all  level  and  to  rake  hay  on  a  steep  hill- 
side has  its  excitements.  I  fear  sometimes  I  shall  upset,  though 
I  know  it  is  not  easy  with  a  twelve  foot  rake.  I  sit  on  a  slick 
seat  with  my  feet  braced  upon  the  axle,  and  I  drive  and  hang 
on  as  best  I  can  with  the  rake  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  or  more 
degrees  it  seems  to  me.  When  the  weight  of  the  rake  with  me 
on  it  sends  the  team  quickly  down  a  hill  I  think  I  am  "a  goner"; 
and  when  I  rise  on  the  axle  and  from  the  seat  to  lighten  a 


A  LOVE  STORY  163 


POSING  AT  A  HAY  STACK. 

bounce,  I  think  I  am  in  danger;  and  sometimes  too  I  snag  me  on 
a  stump  and  can't  get  off.  Then  I  mortify  myself  and  call  for 
help  to  get  loose.  From  a  high  place  in  the  field  I  can  see  the 
hill  tops  and  hill  sides  all  about— tan  and  green  with  grass  and 
oats  and  wheat  and  clover.  The  river  and  creek  wind  in  and 
out  like  silver  threads,  all  a  shimmer  in  the  mid  day  sun.  The 
corn  grows  rank  and  dank  and  green,  and  glistens  in  the  bottoms, 
so  rapid  is  its  progress  from  day  to  day.  The  birds  are  rioting 
"with  joy  on  the  trees  and  fences,  and  along  the  field  and  after 
insects.  The  bees  are  humming  through  the  air;  the  Bumble 
bees  are  droning  in  the  fields,  and  when  we  strike  their  burrows 
in  the  ground  they  make  lively  times  for  men  and  •  horses.  I 
hurry  by  and  keep  quite  still,  my  horses  will  not  run.  "Over 
head  the  sky,  oh,  how  blue  it  is,  and  how  beautiful  witli  soft 
white  clouds  of  every  kind.  The  sweet  winds  blow,  laden  with 
perfume  of  the  hay,  and  fields  about.  The  dogs  stand  still  and 
ilift  their  muzzles  and  snuff  the  air;  their  eyes  look  full  of 
dreams,  and  so  are  mine,  and  then  they  chase  rabbits.  .This 
great  landscape  of  the  Lord,  is  more  beautiful  than  Turner,  or 
Millais,  or  Tadema  can  limn.  This  is  the  real  thing  and  it  de- 
lights me  through  and  through.  Later  on  it  will  change  to  Au- 
tumn's gorgeous  hues,  and  stacks  of  hay  and  shocks  of  fodder 
and  frozen  streams  will  make  my  Autumn  and  Winter  picture  gal- 
lery complete.  I  would  not  give  a  snap,  for  painted  beauties  of 
these  scenes  that  no  one  can  portray,  and  the  joy  and  spirit  of 
it  all  one  must  feel  and  use  and  garner  in  his  inmost  self.  We 
farmers  have  the  greatest  galleries  of  pictures  in  the  world. 
They  are  real,  from  the  cattle  like  those  that  Rosa  Bonheur 


'164 


A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


loved  to  paint,  to  Turner's  marvels  in  color.  Let  me  get  near 
to  Nature's  heart  for  some  day  I  must  nestle  in  her  breast,  she 
is  my  Mother,  my  Father,  my  Sister,  my  Brother  and  all  my  kin. 
The  haying  time  is  good  for  health.  Good  pure  air  is 
breathed  deep  down,  and  exhaled  with  every  shock  of  glottis  and 
diaphram.  I  always  come  out  of  my  haying  better  than  I  went 
in,  in  body,  mind  and  spirit.  The  jolting  of  the  rake  is  better 
than  a  vibrating  chair  in  a  sanitorium;  all  the  nostrums  in  the 
world  cannot  compare  with  good  exercise,  and  the  company  of 
good  wholesome  people,  and  breathing  the  best  of  air.  We  haul 
and  cram  part  of  the  hay  and  clover  in  the  barn;,  we  stack  much 
and  it  goes  to  the  baler  by  and  by,  and  then  we  haul  and  ship 
and  sell  the  residue  we  do  not  need,  and  we  who  labored  have 
stored  up  life  and  vigor  and  delight  for  ourselves,  as  well  as 
feed  for  the  stock,  in  Haying  time. 


A  LOVE  STORY  165 

LINES. 

The  summer  melted  into  riper  fall, 

The  vines  their  fragrant  weight  of  fruitage  bore 

From  hedge  and  field  the  melancholy  call 

Of  dappled  quail,  tells  summer's  reign  is  o'er. 

On  bough  and  branch  the  Autumn  spreads  her  gold, 
And  red  her  vines  has  drained  to  stain  the  leaves, 
Her  soughing  winds  are  wailing  as  of  old 
The  swallows'  nests  are  empty  'neath  the  eaves. 

Soon,  all  too  soon,  will  bough  and  branch  hang  bare, 
And  frozen  earth,  put  on  her  robe  of  gloom, 
The  sedges  rustle  brown  and  withered,  where 
The  waters  murmur  and  the  reed  birds  plume. 

But  Love,  oh  Love,  to  thee  are  all  things  one, 
The  summer's  toil  and  fret,  the  Winter's  chill; 
Nor  change  nor  age,  can  dim  thy  fervent  sun 
If  faithful  hearts  will  cling  to  thee  through  ill. 


166  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

THE  FRIENDLY  HERBS. 

About  my  farm  I  find  so  many  herbs  and  weeds  that  are 
fragrant,  and  that  minister  to  me.  I  know  what  that  little 
poem  means:—  '7  know  a  bank  whereon  the  wild  Thyme  grows". 
I  find  spearmint,  catnip,  tansey,  sweet  fern,  pennyroyal,  hore- 
hound  and  other  herbs;  along  the  soppy  places  of  the  ponds 
and  ditches,  the  sweet  flag  or  calamus,  and  peppermint,  riot 
in  growth;  the  sassafras  and  spice  wood  exhale  a  sweet  per- 
fume, and  so  many  leaves  of  plants  and  trees  are  fragrant.  I 
watch  the  bees  that  revel  in  their  sweets,  and  feel  thanksgiv- 
ing in  my  heart,  and  joy,  when  I  look  and  meditate  upon  them. 
I  wonder  what  makes  people  want  to  take  pills,  and  powders, 
and  drink  alcholic  liquors,  when  Nature  sets  so  much  before  us 
for  our  pleasure  and  our  good.  The  older  peoples  relied  upon 
the  humble  herbs  for  teas  in  sickness,  and  I  find  they  are  good 
to  drink  in  health.  Let  the  water  be  served  hot,  with  catnip  or 
with  pennyroyal  or  mints  or  sassafras  or  spice-wood,  and  we 
have  a  tea  that  is  full  of  the  glamor  of  the  Fairies  and  the 
Wood  Nymphs,  and  that  is  potent  with  the  virtues  of  the  woods 
and  fields.  Catnip  for  the  nerves,  sassafras  for  the  blood, 
mints  for  colds,  etc.,  but  as  beverages,  why  not?  Mocha  and 
Java  coffees,  Japan,  Imperial,  Black  and  Green  Teas  are  good, 
but  why  not  teas  of  these  pleasant  herbs  a  Loving  Hand  has 
planted  everywhere?  They  do  not  grow  where  woods  and  fields 
and  by-ways  are  wild,  but  they  come  with  men  and  civilization, 
and  where  our  feet  press  the  earth,  they  most  spring  up,  these 
friendly  kindly  herbs,  which  I  have  grown  to  look  upon  as  almost 
sentient.  Dry  them  thoroughly  and  store  in  glass  jars 
tightly  sealed,  and  use,  as  one  takes  the  whim  or  pleasure.  A 
Pink  Tea  is  pretty,  but  why  not  as  well  a  Catnip,  a  Sassafras, 
a  Peppermint  or  a  Spice -wood  Tea?  Try  it,  you  will  like  it, 
these  uses  of  the  friendly  herbs. 


A  LOVE  STORY 


167 


BALKING  THE  HAY. 


OFF  FOR  THE   FARM. 


I  love  to  see  the  men  bale  hay,  stuffing  it  into  the  receiver 
from  mow  and  stack,  driving  the  horses  round  and  round, 
bringing  the  great  power  down  with  tremendous  pressure,  forc- 
ing one  hundred  pounds  of  dry  grass  to  go  into  the  small  compass 
of  a  bale  that  it  may  be  kept  safe  and  dry  in  small  spaces  and 
be  hauled  and  shipped  with  ease.  In  goes  the  hay,  round  go 
the  horses,  "Clack"  says  the  Baler,  and  out  comes  a  package 
of  the  scented  grass  or  clover  or  straw  neatly  wired,  and  ready* 
for  the  hooks,  that  pile  it  in  heaps,  or  lift  it  on  wagons  to  be 
hauled  away. 

The  demand  these  strenuous  days  is  for  baled  hay.  It  is 
interesting  to  see  the  men  at  work.  It  takes  three,  as  a  rule 
to  run  the  baler  alone;  one  to  feed,  one  to  drive,  and  one  to 
take  the  hay  out  if  it  is  in  the  open;  but  if  it  is  in  the  barn  it 
takes  two  to  feed  the  baler,  one  to  toss  the  hay  out,  another  to 
bring  it  to  the  feedman.  I  have  forked  hay  to  a  baler  from  a 
mow;  it  is  hustling  work  to  feed  out  to  the  baler,  but  the  man 
who  fetches  the  hay  to  the  pitcher  has  a  harder  task.  Boys 
often  drive  the  horses  for  the  balers.  I  had  one  at  my  place 
the  last  time  I  baled  hay,  and  I  claim  for  him  the  World's 
Championship  as  the  youngest  hay  baler.  Charlie  was  eleven 
years  old  and  came  with  the  balers;  a  black  eyed,  ruddy 


168  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

cheeked,  chunky  little  chap,  with  the  ways  of  a  man.  He  was 
so  small  that  the  horse  next  to  him  on  the  team  he  drove,  tried 
to  take  out  her  aggravations  on  thesmalltad  driving  it,  and  who 
made  it  go,  when  it  had  rather  not;  so  she  kicked  at  my  little 
Champion  every  chance  she  got  till,  to  ensure  his  safety,  a 
piece  of  wire  was  fastened  over  her  hips  to  stop  her  fractious 
legs.  Charlie  was  treated  like  a  man  by  the  men,  and  he  felt 
like  a  man,  and  he  will  be  matured  at  twenty  years,  and  be  a  good 
citizen  able  to  make  his  own  way.  This  is  what  the  farm  will 
do  for  a  boy;  it  teaches  him  to  work  as  a  means  to  an  end;  it 
develops  the  manly  qualities;  it  develops  the  business  sense. 
The  boy  and  girl,  if  they  want  something,  knows  just  how  to  go 
about  to  get  it,  and  the  world  wants  and  calls  for  these  boys 
and  girls,  and  the  farmer's  sons  and  daughters  sit  in  the  high 
places  of  the  earth,  because  they  know  how  to  work,  and  how 
by  this  means  to  attain  what  they  consider  good. 

Charlie  is  my  eleven    year  old  champion  hay  baler,  and 
so  we  bale  our  hay  and  make  a  festival  of  the  work,  too. 


A  LOVE  STORY  169 


THE  LILY  POND  AND  WATER  GARDEN. 

There  is  no  farmer  but  that  can  have  a  Lily  ponds  where 
white,  blue,  pink  and  yellow  lillies,  and  lotus,  may  bloom  each 
year  to  delight  the  eye  by  their  beauty,  and  satisfy  the  senses 
with  their  fragrance.  I  have  one  where  the  pigs  used  to  wal- 
low, but  I  have  chased  them  out  and  planted  lillies,  and  pickerel 
weed,  and  indian  arrow  heads  and  cat  tails  and  reeds,  water 
dock  and  parrots  feather,  wild  rice  and  other  aquatic  plants.  I 
delight  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  water  plants,  and  I 
learn  much  from  them.  The  frogs  have  Operettas  there  in 
every  season  of  the  year  except  winter,  and  I  am  partial  to  their 
silvery  chanting,  and  to  the  profundo  basso  of  the  big  bull 
croakers.  I  could  have  fish  if  the  water  were  a  little  deeper, 
and,  if  I  could  get  a  spring  near  enough  to  feed  it,  I'd  raise  water 
cress.  The  dogs,  cats,  chickens,  pigeons  and  birds  drink  at 
my  pond,  and  the  dogs,  when  hot  with_hunting,  slop  in  its  cool- 
ing contents. 

By  all  means  have  a  water  garden,  then  you  will  not  need 
to  go  long  distances  to  nourish  the  soul  with  beauty,  nor  hang 
pictured  representatives  of  these  water  flowers  and  reeds  on 
your  walls.  We  farmers'may  possess  the  real  thing  and  at  a 
small  expense.  To  learn  to  want  them  is  the  main  point. 


170  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

I  FIX  A  FIELD. 

I  had  a  house  in  town  I  traded  for  a  field.  There  were  fifty- 
three  acres  in  it,  and  it  was  not  considered  first  class  land  by 
many.  I  tore  out  and  cleared  out  the  remains  of  an  old  fence 
along  the  front,  and  the  brush  and  trees  and  weeds  that  made 
it  unsightly.  I  had  two  men  with  plough  and  horses  tear  that 
fence  row  for  a  week,  for  the  roots  were  awful.  There  was  a 
sag  in  the  field  and  it  held  water.  I  told  a  man  who  had  it 
rented  before  I  bought,  to  break  out  all  the  dead  furrows  through 
that  fence  row  to  the  road.  Said  he  with  a  grin,  ''That's  too 
much  work",  and  he  did  not  raise  half  a  crop.  Everybody 
seemed  to  have  worked  that  land  in  the  same  style,  so  it  got  a 
bad  name.  I  put  in  ten  acres  of  oats,  and  we  ploughed  in  nar- 
:row  lands,  and  cut  all  the  dead  furrows  to  the  ditch  outside.  I 
Tented  six  acres  to  a  man  who  wanted  Millet  land,  and  he 
ploughed  and  ditched  out  as  I  told  him,  in  narrow  lands;  later  he 
put  in  eleven  more  acres  to  timothy,  and  ploughed  narrow  lands 
and  cut  out  ditches.  I  had  rented  12  acres  of  it  for  corn,  and 
the  orders  were  to  plough  it  narrow  and  to  the  ditch,  and  I  had 
my  men  cut  and  dig  a  ditch  at  one  point  to  drain  the  water  out 
of  the  sag.  Later  on  we  ploughed  the  rest  of  the  fifty-three 
acres  in  the  same  fashion  and  sowed  it  with  wheat.  And  now 
the  folks  say  "Why  that  is  good  land",  and  want  to  rent  it. 
That  field  had  been  abused  and  robbed,  and  so  it  got  a  bad 
name.  I  have  bought  forty  acres  adjacent  to  it  since,  that  was 
not  promising  to  the  eye,  but  I  can  make  it  bring  me  crops,  and 
now  cow  peas,  cane,  wheat,  oats  and  hay  have  all  been  planted 
on  it;  and  I  love  to  learn  the  how,  and  order  the  work,  and  I 
know  that  land  will  sometime  repay  me  for  what  I  do  for  it.  I 
love  the  farm  life  better  than  life  in  town  by  far;  it  seems  to  me 
I'd  like  to  live  a  thousand  years  like  old  Methusalah  and  enjoy 
the  works  of  God,  and  this  beautiful  world  we  live  in.  I'd  rath- 
er fix  a  field,  and  see  it  come  into  a  bounteous  harvest,  than  any 
work  I  do  in  town. 


A  LOVE  STORY  171 

THE  FARM  AT  WAR. 

The  Farm  dwellers  always  have  a  war  of  some  sort  off 
hands,  The  weed  question  is  the  most  important  in  field  and 
garden,  and  is  always  an  unsettled  question  that  engages  the  aid 
of  everybody  large  and  small,  for  upon  its  settlement  depends 
the  returns  of  the  earth.  I  war  too.  I  hate  the  poke  and  dock, 
and  cuckle  burr,  and  burdock  and  beggar  lice,  andjimson  weeds, 
and  when  I  go  over  my  place  I  arm  myself  with  corn  knife  and 
.  hoe  to  wage  a  war  of  extermination.  The  Poke  is  a  magnifi- 
cent plant  with  its  great  branching  top,  its  ruddy  stems  and 
handsome  and  luxuriant  crop  of  berries,  but  oh  how  it  spreads 
and  crowds  the  crops.  I  whack  off  their  heads  when  in  bloom 
but  they  often  beat  me  to  the  goal;  and  how  many  little  plants 
spring  up  to  mock  me  if  they  are  allowed  to  seed.  The  roots 
have  certain  medicinal  virtues,  but  must  be  dried,  and  then  do 
not  weigh  much,  so  I  slice  the  big  fat  roots  and  stems  with  my 
hoe  and  that  usually  kills  the  plants.  Burdock  and  cuckle  burrs 
are  awful  to  stick  in  horses  tails,  in  sheep's  wool  and  in  women's 
skirts.  The  dogs  have  a  time,  picking  them  out  of  their  own 
coats,  and  they  take  turns  in  picking  them  out  of  each  others 
heads  and  necks.  I  slash  burdock  right  and  left  with  hoe  and 
corn  knife,  as  everybody  else  does.  Like  the  girl  who  named 
the  carpet  she  had  to  beat  for  her  worst  enemy,  I  slash  weeds 
named  for  all  sorts  of  things  I  do  not  like.  I  cut  off  the  heads 
of  a  whole  lot  of  bad  things,  and  am  quite  satisfied  with  the  fight 
I  have  made,  and  it  refreshes  one  a  bit.  The  great  Jimson  weeds 
with  their  sharp  burrs  are  so  tremendously  prolific  and  arrive 
every  year  in  good  season  to  mock  the  farmer  and  spoil  him 
if  they  can,  but  when  the  hoes  get  to  work  in  the  hands  of  the 
farm  dwellers,  there  is  an  awful  slaughter  of  these  would  be 
robbers  of  the  crops  and  soil. 

Some  weeds  like  dock  and  lambs'  quarter  and  sour  dock  are 
good  for  greens  as  food,  but  the  dock  will  get  you  if  you  don't 
look  out.  Lambs  quarter  on  my  farm  is  like  a  vegetable,  so 
fine  and  large,  and  makes  delicious  greens,  as  good  as  spinach, 
and  it  takes  care  of  itself. 

The  Chinch  bug  and  the  Hessian  fly  are  bad,  but  we  are 
learning  how  to  conquer  and  outwit  them.  The  caterpillars 


172  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

and  moths  and  worms,  that  eat  and  destroy  our  small  fruits  and 
our  Orchards  we  have  learned  to  march  on;  and  with  pumps 
and  sprays  and  emulsions  we  fight  them  with  vigor,  and  they 
fall  before  us,  and  the  grateful  trees  return  us  praise  in  riches 
of  their  kind. 

So  we  wage  our  peaceful  war,  and  are  refreshed  and  invig- 
orated in  body  and  in  purse.  We  conquer;  we  destroy  this 
army  on  the  farm,  who  go  to  battle  each  year,  and  we  grow  in 
the  knowledge  of  God's  laws  as  well.  It  is  a  war  we  need  to 
wage,  and  not  a  war  on  each  other. 


A  LOVE  STORY  173 

IN  THE  HAY  MOWS. 

Since  I  was  a  child  I  loved  a  great  hay  mow;  not  a  little 
one,  but  a  big  one,  where  the  hay  and  oats  and  wheat  and  corn 
is  stored,  where  one  can  hide  away  if  things  go  wrong,  and 
think,  cry  or  pray  or  sleep,  and  no  one  bothers.  On  rainy  days 
when  the  rain  pounds  on  the  roof,  what  dreams  run  to  and  fro 
within  one's  brain,  and  what  plans  are  laid  in  the  hay  mows 
fragrant  recesses.  I  love  to  see  a  hen,  with  solemn  and  mysterious 
look  slipping  into  the  hay  mow  to  find  a  place  she  considers 
good  enough  to  deposit  her  treasure  of  a  nice  fresh  egg.  She 
not  only  has  in  mind  that  egg,  but  other  eggs  and  some  pretty 
little  downy  chicks  she  hopes  some  day  to  mother  and  cluck  to. 
Here  in  this  great  old  mow  the  men,  too,  often  gather  on  stormy 
days  and  plan  the  work  ahead,  and  rest  in  the  sweet  scented 
treasure  of  the  hay,  the  clover,  the  wheat  and  corn.  The  birds 
find  a  shelter  and  a  welcome  in  my  two  big  mows  in  winter,  for 
I  have  two  of  them,  and  the  treasure  of  the  mows  makes  the 
barns  all  the  more  comfortable  for  horses  and  cattle  and-  sheep 
in  winter;  and  the  poultry  all  delight  to  shelter  here,  when  '  'days 
are  cold  and  dark  and  dreary".  We  all  need  the  big  hay  mows 
on  the  farm. 


174  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


THE  FRESHETS. 

"The  gates  of  heaven  opened  and  the  floods  decended".  —  The 
Bible. 

When  it  rains  and  rains,  we  farmers  who  live  on  the  creeks 
and  rivers  know  we  shall  have  a  freshet,  that  will  fill  the  creeks 
and  rivers  to  the  brim,  and  then  back  up  andjoverflow  their  banks 
and  fill  their  basins,  or  as  we  call  them,  bottoms,  full.  The 
value  of  bottom  lands  depends  largely  on  the  overflows,  for  the 
waters  bring  enrichment  to  them  from  everywhere.  One  will 
be  asked,  '  'Does  the  river  come  over  the  bottom  lands  you  own"  ? 
If  one  can  say  "Yes",  it's  all  right,  for  it  settles  the  value  of  the 
land.  If  the  rains  come  and  the  waters  rise  after  the  corn  and 
the  other  bottom  crops  are  up,  and  growing,  the  farmer  is  full  of 
lamentation.  He  may  have  to  replant  his  crop.  The  seed  men 
offer  corn  that  matures  in  ninety,  days,  and  we  have  all  sorts 
of  ways  of  saving  ourselves.  We  can  plant  millet  and  cane  if 
not  too  late,  and  if  no  fall  freshet  catches  us  we  shall  have  a 
crop.  But  we  feel  shakey  when  the  rains  begin  to  pour,  and 
sometimes  they  damage  us  sorely,  wiping  out  all  or  portions  of 
the  crop,  and  what  is  left  will  be  in  bad  condition.  We  tile  our 
fields,  and  thus  run  the  water  off  quickly  when  the  flood  abates. 
It  is  a  doleful  sight  to  see  the  water  running  all  over  the  bot- 
toms and  the  corn  all  covered  up  except  a  high  top.  One  can't 
replant  corn  that  late.  I've  seen  rain  fall,  and  in  thirty  minutes 
everything  was  full  on  the  roadsides,  If  this  keeps  up  for  two 
or  three  days  the  bottoms  will  be  a  gruesome  sight.  I  always 
think  of  Noah  in  his  ark,  and  when  I  sit  on  a  hill  and  look  at 
my  bottom  fields,  and  those  of  my  neighbors  full  of  water,  I 
have  to  pray  hard  to  keep  cool  and  sweet  and  see  the  disaster 
under  my  eyes  and  know  that  others  suffer  even  worse  than  I. 
And  yet,  the  water  leaves  a  gift  in  our  fields  when  it  comes 
like  that.  Sometimes  great  logs  come  down  and  the  debris  of 
the  clearings  and  of  the  corn  fields  of  the  year  before,  and  on 
trees  and  water  gaps  it  catches  and  hangs  and  we  have  to  drag 
and  clean  it  off,  and  later  burn  this  stuff.  So  the  freshets  make 
us  work  for  what  they  fetch  us.  Sometimes  we  are  water 


A  LOVE  STORY  175 

bound,  as  we  say.  There  are  no  bridges  over  a  stream  perhaps, 
or  the  approach  is  too  low,  and  we  can't  get  through  unless  we 
risk  drowning;  and  when  the  currents  are  swift  as  often  hap- 
pens, we  take  no  risks  but  wait  till  the  waters  subside.  The 
freshets  are  some  of  the  interesting  and  troublesome  things  of 
farm  life  for,  while  they  enrich  the  fields,  they  so  often  make 
havoc  with  the  crops. 


176  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

THE  CLOVER  FIELDS. 


A  CLOVER  FIELD. 

Red,  White,  Bokhara,  Alsike  and  Alfalfa  Clovers. 

All  farmers  are  advised  to  plant  common  red  clover  to  get 
good  fields  and  to  restore  to  the  soil  what  other  crops  take  from 
it.  No  feed  is  counted  "balanced",  now,  unless  it  has  a  certain 
share  of  clover  in  it.  Horses,  cows,  calves,  sheep,  pigs  and 
chickens  all  eat  and  thrive  on  it.  We  feed  our  horses  red  clov- 
er, cut  and  wilted  over  night,  as  soon  as  we  can  get  it  in  the 
spring,  and  they  love  it  and  get  in  good  condition  from  its  use 
and  work  well,  and  it  makes  one  glad  to  see  how  they  do  enjoy 
it.  The  seed  costs  much,  but  when  one  has  clover  well  set,  it 
can  be  ploughed  under  and  it  comes  up  again,  and  then  we  cut 
again,  snd  it  will  seed  again.  I  sowed  a  field  in  oats  and  clover. 
We  cut  two  crops  and  then  we  turned  it  under  and  planted 
wheat,  and  then  we  had  a  clover  field  that  was  better  than  the 
first  planting.  The  sheep  and  horses  pasture  clover  after  the 
crop  is  cut  till  the  frosts  come,  and  it  is  no  longer  safe  to  pasture, 
for  it  is  not  good  to  break  the  crown  of  the  plant  by  the  heavy 
feet  of  stock  when  it  is  frozen  One  can  cut  and  thrash  out 
clover  seed  and  that  fetches  a  fine  price,  and  is  counted  a  money 
maker. 

I  plant  much  clover  and  shall  plant  more.  For  pasturage 
it  cannot  be  excelled,  and  dry  it  is  always  fine  and  a  good  price. 
It  is  a  little  harder  to  cure  than  hay,  as  it  is  so  full  of  sap. 
When  we  store  it  in  the  barns  it  is  our  custom  to  salt  it  which 
is  preservative.  Nothing  is  more  beautiful  than  the  red  clover 


A  LOVE  STORY  177 

fields  in  full  bloom,  their  blossoms  are  so  pink,  the  field  is 
dainty  with  that  color.  Their  fragrance  fills  the  air,  and  the 
Bumble  bees  are  hustling  everywhere  to  serve  us  by  fertiliz- 
ing. The  boys  have  orders  not  to  fight  and  kill  my  "Bumble" 
bees  for,  queer  to  say,  many  of  the  boys  make  paddles  and  go 
on  the  war  path  to  destroy  them.  A  boy  was  telling  me  how  he 
fought  and  killed  a  lot  of  mine*,  and  when  I  told  him  the  clover 
would  not  seed  without  the  Bumble  bees,  and  why,  he  under- 
stood when  I  told,  him  not  to  kill  mine,  he  knew  just  what  it 
meant.  When  I  run  across  a  nest  of  Bumble  bees  in  the  clover 
field  I  do  not  slap  and  bang,  I  get  away.  I  have  never  yet  been 
stung,  though  now  and  then  my  horses  are.  I  revel  in  my 
blooming  clover  fields  and  send  wireless  messages  to  all  of  my 
friends  to  come  and  enjoy  them  I  know  a  woman  cured  of 
tuberculosis,  who  had  lost  one  lung  entirely.  She  drank  clover 
tea  and  lived  much  in  the  clover  fields.  I  enjoy  to  rake  the 
clover  hay,  and  rejoice  to  see  my  barn  mows  stored  full  with  it, 
and  to  see  the  stacks  dot  my  meadows.  It  is  my  hope  to  follow 
all  my  crops  with  clover,  so  I  sow  the  seed  and  will  have  it  cut 
and  thrashed,  and  ploughed  under,  and  then  it  seeds  and  makes 
my  fields  all  sweet  and  lovely  again.  White  clover  we  sow  for 
pastures,  the  only  thing  I  object  to  is,  it  slobbers  the  stock  bad- 
ly now  and  them.  Alsike  Clover  we  sow  in  low  places;  it  makes, 
good  fine  hay,  and  is  a  good  basis  for  Timothy  and  Red  Top  hay 
fields.  The  Bee  or  Bokhara  clover  I  sow  in  all  sorts  of  places 
where  the  soil  is  thin,  and  in  the  gullies  where  the  soil  washes, 
for  it  enriches  and  binds  the  earth  and  the  grasses  come.  The 
stock  all  eat  and  like  it.  It  can  be  cured  if  we  see  fit.  In 
Europe,  I  am  told  it  is  salted,  cured  and  fed  to  work  steers  and 
cows.  A  farmer  I  know  said  cattle  learn  to  eat  it,  when  cured 
right.  Alfalfa  I  have  planted,  but  as  yet  have  not  made  suc- 
cess of  it,  but  I  will  some  day.  The  Japanese  clover  is  creep- 
ing this  way  from  the  South,  and  I  wander  what  it  amounts 
to  anyway,  except  to  grow  in  bald,  bare  spots  and  on  naked  banks. 
It  looks  pretty  and  mossy.  The  Red  Clover  is  our  main  hold  on  the 
farms,  but  all  the  Clovers  are  valuable  and  should  be  planted. 
I  had  a  red  clover  field  of  ten  acres  that  was  fine.  I  cut 
about  ten  tons  of  hay  from  it.  The  second  crop  I  planned  to 
cut  for  seed,  and  how  proud  I  was  about  the  clover  seed  I  was 


178  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

to  get  off  of  that  field.  I  said  '  1  will  not  have  to  buy  clover 
seed  any  more;  I  will  have  all  I  want  this  year,  and  can  sell 
some' '.  The  second  crop  was  as  fine  as  the  first  and  I  thought 
to  get  a  lot  of  seed  from  it,  but  we  were  busy,  and  the  field  was 
quite  a  distance  away,  and  when  I  sent  my  farmer  to  it  I  was 
too  late.  The  crop  had  ripened  and  was  not  in  a  condition  to 
cut,  and  like  the  little  girl  wht>  counted  her  chickens  before 
they  were  hatched,  my  hopes  came  to  naught  for  that  crop  of 
clover  seed.  Of  course  it  was  not  a  total  loss  for  the  seed  lies  in 
the  field,  but  we  did  not  particularly  need  it  there.  However, 
I  shall  plough  that  field  unoler  and  I  shall  expect  some  bump- 
er corn,  and  the  clover  will  come  up  just  as  thick  as  ever.  So 
after  all,  I  shall  only  have  to  wait,  but  I  did  not  want  to,  and  I 
had  to  buy  clover  to  sow  in  another  field. 

I  had  a  dog  who  always  wanted  to  howl  when  a  Church  bell 
near  me  rang,  but  I  taught  him  not  to  howl  by  talking  to  him. 
When  I  think  of  all  that  clover  seed  I  lost,  I  think  I  feel  like  the 
dog  when  he  heard  the  bell.  But  I  talk  to  myself  a  little  and 
cease  lamenting.  I  learned  much  that  I  did  not  know  before, 
if  I  did  lose  my  seed  and  all  it  represented,  for  I  am  here  and 
more  clover  is  coming  on  in  other  places,  so  I  feel  thankful 
anyway. 


A  LOVE  STORY  179 


'  'Said  the  mountain  to  the  squirrel,  You're  a  prig. 

Said  the  Squirrel  to  the  mountain 

Though  I'm  not  as  big  as  you— 

You  cannot  crack  a  nut."— Emerson. 

The  trees  on  my  farm  have  many  squirrels  in  them,  gray 
and  the  red  fox  sort.  Once  a  hunting  ground  for  all  sorts  of 
game,  my  farm  has  now  become  a  game  preserve,  and  no  wild 
things  are  allowed  to  be  hunted  or  killed,  so  the  squirrels  race 
and  romp  and  run  undisturbed,  in  the  trees  and  over  the  ground 
with  us.  And  if  they  now  and  then  levy  toll  on  the  corn  fields 
and  the  cribs,  no  one  makes  complaint. 

The  dogs  almost  go  wild  chasing  and  hunting  them;  they 
race  and  run  about  the  feet  of  the  trees,  squinting  upwards 
where  the  squirrels  lie  outstretched  on  the  limbs,  and  grinning 
contempt  at  them,  and  flipping  their  saucy  tails  in  jibing. 

Bussie,  my  little  tan  terrier  used  to  get  so  excited  he  would 
try  to  climb  trees  to  get  at  them.  There  was  a  double  tree  in 
the  barn  yard  and  he'd  brace  his  back  on  it,  and  climb  up  several 
feet  toward  the  saucy  big  tails,  but  his  barking  and  excitement 
was  all  the  benefit  he  got  of  his  efforts. 

It  is  a  pretty  sight  to  see  a  lot  of  young  squirrels  running 
and  racing  and  climbing  trees  like  a  lot  of  kittens:  I  will  not 
allow  them  killed.  I  wish  they  would  not  go  into  my  neigh- 
bors fields  where  they  often  meet  hunters  who  end  their  cheer- 
ful lives,  that  on  my  farm  are  protected. 


180  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

THE  FORDS. 

Fulfer  Creek,  cuts  across  a  field  on  my  farm  and  we  have  to 
ford  it.  The  freshets  washed  the  creek  bed  out,  one  bank  be- 
gan to  mire  the  horses;  the  other  was  too  steep,  and  cut  in  on 
a  neighbors  land  at  the  turn.  I  went  with  my  farmer  in  a 
wagon  and  we  took  stones  from  a  hill  side  near  and  dumped 
them  in  the  mirey  bank  and  creek  bed  and  made  a  solid  bot- 
tom. We  cut  some  willow  trees  and  anchored  them  with  wire 
cables,  and  on  this  bottom  we  spiked  rails  for  a  foundation. 
The  water  was  deep  and  we  feared  the  stones  would  catch  the 
horses  feet;  so  the  steep  bank  we  treated  with  a  plough  and 
cutting  scraper,  and  we  soon  had  a  solid  dirt  cover  on  our  rail 
and  tree  foundation.  The  bank  was  no  longer  a  mire  hole  and 
we  crossed  the  new  made  ford  in  safety.  I  drove  the  horses 
and  bossed  the  job,  and  one  of  the  men  handled  the  scraper.  It 
was  a  delightful  task  to  me  to  see  that  ford  develop. 

The  Wabash  River  cuts  across  the  end  of  a  field  of  mine, 
and  bars  us  out  of  the  rest  of  the  field.  There  is  no  shallow 
handy  but  a  bank  caved  in  and  made  a  place  for  an  approach, 
and  by  planting  some  willow  poles  and  posts,  I  can  make  an  ap- 
proach on  one  side,  the  other  bank  is  handy.  I  have  a  lot  of 
stones  on  a  hill  near  by  I'm  going  to  dump  into  the  river  bed 
and  make  a  shallow,  and  then  I'll  doctor  it  until  I  have  a  ford, 
that  is  a  ford,  and  not  expensive  either.  Then  I  can  go  across 
my  land  the  shortest  way  in  safety,  and  save  time  by  not  hav- 
ing to  go  around;  and  I  will  have  the  satisfaction  of  having 
made  the  little  Wabash  River  obedient  to  my  will.  If  the  Dutch 
could  bar  out  the  sea  from  Holland  and  dry  the  Zuyder  Zee, 
and  raise  good  crops  in  its  once  watery  bed,  I  can't  see  why  I 
shouldn't  make  the  little  river  mind  me.  American  Engineers 
checked  the  Colorado  River,  which  broke  out  and  made  the 
great  Salton  Sea,  so  I  will  I  think  order  the  Little  Wabash  to 
my  will. 

The  great  Rivers  which  are  forced  to  irrigate  the  dry  lands 
of  America,  the  great  tunnels  like  that  of  the  Gunnison,  the 
damming  of  the  Salton  Sea,  and  other  great  dams  which  hoard 
the  water,  convince  me  I  can  do  with  the  puny  Wabash  as  I  will. 
So  many  creek  and  river  crossings  are  bad.  I  can't  see  why 


A  LOVE  STORY  181 

road  commissioners  and  especially  farmers  do  not  put  the  creek 
and  river  fords  in  order.  I  want  good  and  permanent  fords, 
and  so  increase  the  beauty  and  value  of  my  farm.  I  shall 
plant  cat  tails  and  wild  rice  and  other  water  plants  at  the  Fords 
too,  and  in  time  I  shall  make  farms  not  my  own,  to  show  our 
water  beauties  by  the  planting  at  my  Fords,  for  the  seeds  and 
roots  will  travel  in  time  down  the  creek  and  river,  because  of  my 
fords. 


182  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

ADVENTURES. 
'  'Fear  is  an  ague. ' ' 

I  am  naturally  a  coward.  I  was  as  a  child  afraid  of  the 
dark.  I  could  not  understand  why  people  dared  go  in  the  streets 
after  night  and  in  the  dark:  I  always  apprehended  danger, 
and  suppose  I  always  shall,  it  is  a  weakness  inherent  in  me.  I 
was  afraid  of  horses.  Yet  by  my  will,  I  subjugate  my  cowardice 
and  I  do  things  I  am  afraid  to  do. 

For  many  years  I  drove  from  March  to  December  and  held 
temperance  meetings.  I  drove  by  night  often ;  sometimes  there 
was  a  moon  and  sometimes  not.  I  usually  carried  a  dash  lan- 
tern, but  now  and  then  I  forgot  it.  I  often  held  night  meetings 
and  would  drive  home  afterwards.  By  this  means  T  had  rest  in 
my  own  bed  and  saved  a  day.  I  learned,  too,  that  horses  travel 
better  at  night,  and  I  got  home  sooner  than  in  the  day,  and  I 
was  not  so  weary  either;  I  desired  to  economize  in  time,  as  I 
always  had  more  than  enough  to  do. 

We  once  had  a  little  sorrel  nag  which  had  been  raced,  al- 
though we  did  not  know  it  when  we  bought  her.  She  was  not 
vicious,  but  did  unexpected  things.  Once  two  small  boys  started 
to  take  her  to  the  stable,  when  I  was  out  for  a  meeting,  and 
she  gave  a  side  whip,  upset  the  buggy  and  tore  the  top  off.  I 
hitched  her  to  it  to  get  her  wonted  so  we  could  drive  home,  for 
we  were  eighteen  miles  out,  and  she  tore  the  buggy  seat  up  and 
ate  our  dinner.  I  got  a  stout  young  man  used  to  handling  horses 
to  start  her  on  the  home  stretch,  and  she  undertook  to  run.  He 
and  his  brother  hung  on  and  finally  we  got  in;  it  was  a  "ground 
hog  case".  The  young  man  rode  with  us  and  drove  two  miles, 
then  had  to  leave  us.  Fortunately  I  had  a  young  woman  with 
me  who  was  not  afraid.  Ruby  the  mare  behaved  very  well  af- 
ter that,  however,  I  suppose  she  was  used  to  such  affairs  as  a 
racer,  but  the  night  came  on  and  we  had  forgotten  the  lantern, 
and  were  obliged  to  cross  a  heavily  wooded  creek  bottom  where 
a  high  bridge  without  side  protection  crossed  the  water  down 
below.  We  could  not  see  a  thing  when  we  reached  the  creek, 
so  I  got  out  of  the  buggy  and  felt  my  way  along  the  road  until 
we  crossed  the  bridge,  while  my  friend  drove.  It  was  not  a 
pleasant  experience  to  say  the  least. 


A  LOVE  STORY  183 

Another  night  I  was  with  another  friend  and  we  were 
caught  in  a  terrific  storm  of  rain  and  hail  and  wind.  Three  times 
we  turned  the  buggy  for  it  seemed  it  would  surely  go  over. 
"Tony",  our  horse,  was  young  but  brave.  I  thought  he'd  run 
when  the  hail  struck  him,  but  he  tucked  his  head  and  tail  close 
and  kept  still  "Oh"  said  my  friend,  "what  shall  we  do"?  That 
was  what  I  was  thinking  too,  but  I  said,  "We  can  ask  God  and 
His  Angels  to  care  for  us".  We  arrived  home  safely,  to  find 
there  had  been  no  storm  behind  us  and  no  storm  ahead  of  us; 
we  had  struck  the  vortex. 

Another  night  I  was  out  with  another  friend  and  a  heavy 
storm  came  up.  Oh,  how  it  rained  and  blew!  It  was  so  dark 
we  could  see  nothing,  and  when  the  lightning  flashes  came 
they  were  terrific  and  almost  blinded  us,  the  thunder  was  fright- 
ful. We  had  to  cross  a  bridge  over  the  Little  Wabash  River, 
and  the  entrance  was  at  the  foot  of  a  very  steep,  curving  hill. 
We  waited  until  a  flash  of  lightning  would  show  us  where  we 
were,  and  then  move  on.  The  last  wait  was  to  make  sure  we 
hit  the  narrow  opening  of  the  bridge  so  we  might  not  go  off  the 
steep  bank  into  the  river.  Sometimes  the  horse,  beaten  by  the 
storm,  wandered  sideways;  I  could  tell  it  by  the  scraping  of 
his  feet  in  the  underbrush,  for  we  were  on  a  terrible  road.  The 
rain  came  in  torrents,  then  it  lulled;  but  it  was  too  dark  to  see, 
and  we  had  a  lot  of  steep,  narrow  hills  to  cross.  We  called  up 
a  man  from  a  house  from  which  a  light  shone,  and  fortunately 
he  had  a  lantern.  He  piloted  us  over  the  hills  and  then  loaned 
us  the  lantern  to  go  the  rest  of  the  way. 

I  have  been  out  when  the  wind  blew,  and  the  night  was  not 
dark ;  then  we  could  see  the  magnificent  cloud  mountains  in  the 
sky,  and  sometimes  the  stars  alight,  and  the  lightning  like  a 
great  sword  would  gash  the  firmament  with  resistless  power 
that  awakened  awe  within  the  soul.  The  wind  was  sometimes 
terrific  and  roared  like  a  storm  at  sea  it  seemed  to  me.  People 
who  drive  at  night  see  and  experience  many  things  the  day 
does  not  bring  forth.  I've  been  out  in  all  sorts  of  storms  by 
day  and  night  and  lightning  always  startles  and  gives  me  pain. 
I  am  always  thankful  to  get  safe  home. 

One  afternoon  I  went  to  my  farm  with  a  heavy  load  on  my 
wagon.  It  became  dark  and  I  had  forgotten  my  lantern  in  the 


184  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

hurry  of  getting  off.  It  was  winter;  the  mud  was  deep,  but 
it  was  not  cold.  A  heavy  mist  or  fog  was  over  everything;  it 
was  a  decidedly  "spookey"  night.  I  came  down  the  big  hill 
safely,  crossed  the  dark  bottom  and  the  covered  bridge,  and 
started  up  the  hill.  It  was  steep  and  curving  and  full  of  mud  and 
chuck  holes.  The  mud  seemed  to  me  hub  deep  almost;  there 
was  a  bench  where  the  water  caught,  and  the  mud  was  deeper 
and  made  a  hole;  and  then  there  came  a  sudden  rise.  Dan  and 
Don,  my  horses,  hated  that  hill  and  that  spot,  and  made  a  quick 
pull  to  get  up  and  not  stick,  when  crack!  something  snapped, 
the  wagon  stopped,  Don  pawed  the  earth,  and  there  I  was  at 
a  dead  stop  on  the  worst  part  of  the  road  and  it  was  too  dark 
to  see  anything,  and  no  lantern.  I  was  about  two  miles  from 
my  stopping  place.  I  felt  as  if  I  would  like  to  sit  down  and 
cry,  but  I  dared  not,  sol  climbed  down  the  best  I  could,  waded  the 
mud  which  was  about  to  the  top  of  my  boots,  and  as  slippery  as 
butter,  and  holding  on  to  the  horses  and  harness,  began  to  feel 
to  find  what  was  the  trouble.  I  had  suspected  it  was  the  neck 
yoke  on  Dan's  side;  I  had  bought  a  new  one  for  my  special  use 
but  an  old  one  had  been  put  on  and  the  ring  came  out.  The 
pole  was  down;  Dan's  single-tree  was  torn  loose  from  the  dou- 
ble tree,  and  there  I  was;  it  was  awful.  I  slipped  and  slid 
through  the  mud  to  the  rear  of  the  wagon  where  I  had  some 
wire  hanging  in  case  of  accident.  I  felt  for  the  hole  in  the 
single  and  double-tree  with  my  fingers,  and  after  a  while  got  a 
double  wire  through  the  hole  and  fastened  it,  and  put  on  the  tugs. 
Don  kept  pawing  and  snorting  and  jerking  and  throwing 
muddy  water  on  everything  and  me,  and,  as  his  tugs  were  at- 
tached, he  jerked  things  badly;  I  just  missed  getting  my  hand 
caught  between  the  wheel  with  its  heavy  iron  rim  and  the 
double  tree,  and  so  missed  a  bad  hurt;  I  had  a  good  scare.  I 
crawled  to  the  horses  heads,  got  the  tongue  in  the  ring  and 
managed  to  wire  the  neck  yoke  to  the  pole  and  Dan.  I  seized 
the  lines,  took  hold  of  the  dash  board  of  the  wagon  and  drew 
myself  up  on  the  double-tree.  Gee!  the  horses  started  like  they 
were  furious.  I  uttered  a  prayer  for  safety,  and  up  the  hill  we 
went  I  hanging  on  to  the  end  of  the  wagon  and  nothing  but 
the  wriggling  double  tree  under  my  feet.  I  was  well  frightened; 
suppose  I  had  lost  my  hold  or  the  end  of  the  wagon  had  broken, 


A  LOVE  STORY  185 

it  was  an  old  one,  where  would  I  have  been?  I  could  not  use 
the  lines  for  I  had  to  hang  on  for  my  life,  it  seemed  to  me.  I 
remembered  there  were  no  deep  ditches  at  the  road  side  where 
I  could  upset.  When  we  reached  to  the  top  of  the  hill  the 
horses  stopped  to  get  their  breath,  and  I  got  in  the  wagon, 
pretty  well  shaken  up.  The  team  was  tame  enough  after  the 
pull  up  the  hill,  and  I  drove  on  the  best  I  could.  The  men  who 
unhitched  said  they  wondered  the  horses  did  not  run  away  for 
the  lines  were  all  out  of  '  'kelter, ' '  and  the  harness  also,  but '  'Dan- 
nie" and  "Bonnie"  wouldn't  do  me  that  way  I  knew,  and  a 
kindly  Providence  that  watches  over  children  and  fools,  seemed 
to  care  for  me. 

On  another  occasion  I  had  an  old  surry,  minus  a  top,  hitched 
behind  my  buggy,  and  on  that,  in  state,  in  a  big  crate,  was  a 
Duroc  Jersey  stock  hog  that  weighed  about  300  Ibs.  Some  of  the 
folks  told  me  I'd  break  down,  so  I  had  something  to  think  of; 
but  we  got  on  fine  till  I  was  almost  at  the  gate  of  my  farm.  I 
turned  to  one  side  to  avoid  a  bad  piece  of  road  when,  alas,  the 
surry  which  was  low  hung,  struck  a  stump  and  stuck.  I 
jumped  out,  and  found  I  couldn't  get  off.  Two  saplings  being 
handy,  I  tied  the  horses;  then  I  discovered  the  oil  in  my  lan- 
tern was  about  out,  and  it  was  dark,  so  I  started  and  ran  the 
rest  of  the  way,  a  mile  at  least.  I  had  on  rubber  boots  and  the 
earth  was  slippery  with  water,  but  I  ran  my  best.  Two  of  the 
men  went  out  at  my  call  and  got  the  rig  off  the  stump,  so  we 
landed  the  hog  and  all  in  safety. 

On  another  occasion  I  hitched  a  Texas  pony  to  my  buggy 
and  started  to  look  after  some  work  the  men  were  doing.  When 
I  went  to  climb  the  bank  of  the  creek  the  pony  could  not  make 
it.  The  buggy  was  heavy,  and  she  was  small,  and  try  her  best 
she  could  not  get  up  the  bank.  I  jumped  out  and  thought,  re- 
lieved of  my  weight,  she  might  get  up  the  bank,  but  she 
couldn't;  then,  like  many  of  the  Western  horses  she  con- 
cluded to  do  as  she  pleased.  She  backed  and  backed  and  jerked 
the  lines  out  of  my  hands;  she'd  have  upset  the  buggy  had  I 
not  let  loose;  then  she  turned  and  recrossed  the  creek  towards 
home.  She  struck  the  end  of  a  log  with  a  wheel  and  it 
dropped;  that  stopped  her.  But  I  was  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  creek  and  the  water  was  deep.  I  ran  up  and  down  feeling 


186  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

like  a  fool,  looking  for  a  place  to  cross,  but  there  was  not  a 
place.  I  noticed  a  little  dog  with  me  had  to  swim  as  he 
crossed  the  creek,  and  I  did  not  know  where  the  holes  were.  I 
finally  got  a  long  stick  and  felt  before  me,  and  in  I  waded.  It 
was  pretty  deep  and  I  was  good  and  wet,  but  I  got  dry  gar- 
ments, took  another  route,  and  reached  my  work.  I  have 
worked  that  creek  bank  since  then  and  we  can  get  out  now 
fairly  well. 

I  had  a  Texas  pony  that  I  traded  for;  she  was  a  good  little 
beast,  and  I  called  her  Daisy,  because  she  was  a  daisy.  She 
had  never  been  hitched  to  a  wagon  before  I  bought  her,  and  the 
men  said  I'd  have  fun  with  her,  for  she  would  not  pull  a  pound. 
She  felt  very  queer  when  she  started  first,  but  we  "whooped  up" 
the  horse  which  was  harnessed  with  her  so  she  would  have  no 
time  to  think  very  much.  We  had  a  hill  to  climb  and  the  young 
fellow  with  me  said  '  'You  will  have  fun  at  that  hill  for  she  will 
not  pull  a  pound  there".  He  had  a  team,  as  we  were  going  af- 
ter another  wagon:  "Frank",  I  said,  "hitch  Snip  to  the  wagon 
pole  and  along  side  of  Daisy;  she  won't  know  she  is  going  up  a 
hill".  So  we  managed  it  that  she  had  no  time  for  antics  of  any 
kind,  and  when  we  loaded  with  bricks  at  Mason,  a  small  town 
below  us,  she  just  pulled  her  best.  One  day  I  was  going  to  Eff- 
ingham  and  had  a  bag  of  potatoes  in  the  buggy,  and  going 
down  the  hill  to  the  bridge,  from  some  cause  or  other,  the  buggy 
crowded  her,  and  quick  as  a  flash  away  she  went  down  that  aw- 
ful hill,  in  a  zig  zag  route,  in  and  out  the  ditches,  and  kicking 
at  every  jump.  I  though  I  was  a  "goner"  that  time,  but  I  held 
on  and  "whoaed",  but  I  might  as  well  have  kept  still.  I  sup- 
posed she  was  likely  to  jump  off  the  bank  and  land  me  in  the 
river  to  be  drowned  or  smashed  to  death.  There  was  a  sort  of 
a  shelf  at  one  side  of  the  road  at  the  bottom  and  she  made  one 
wild  plunge  for  the  bank;  the  wheels  struck  the  bench;  she 
whirled  around,  and  stood  with  her  head  where  her  tail  ought 
to  have  been,  the  shafts  under  her  chin,  the  harness  twisted 
about  her  neck  and  head.  She  had  kicked  the  single  tree  and 
the  cross  bar  all  to  pieces,  and  she  stood  quietly  and  looked  at 
me  as  if  to  say,  "Now  what  do  you  think"?  I  took  out  my 
knife  to  cut  her  loose  from  the  harness,  and  found  the  tugs  had 
come  loose,  but  she  had  not  broken  the  harness;  it  had  just 


A  LOVE  STORY  187 

slipped  up  around  her  neck;  however,  I  had  to  get  new  shafts. 
We  drove  her  single  and  double  afterwards,  and  I  always 
thought,  and  do  yet,  that  her  harness  was  out  of  fix  someway 
and  let  the  buggy  on  her  or  she  wouldn't  have  run  and  kicked 
as  she  did. 

Another  time  I  was  out  with  the  hay  makers  and  Daisy 
stuck  on  a  bad  bank.  She  was  small  and  the  buggy  heavy,  and 
she  couldn't  get  out.  I  got  out  by  jumping  and  then  waded  to 
the  bank.  The  men  were  going  to  whip  her  out,  but  I  said 
"Don't  you  doit;  if  you  do,  she  will  lie  right  down  in  the 
creek  and  break  her  harness  and  the  shafts  all  to  pieces", 
and  sire  would;  as  it  was,  she  swayed  and  cracked  the  shafts. 
One  of  the  men  took  off  his  shoes  and  stockings  and  waded  in 
and  the  buggy  was  hauled  out  and  she  walked  up  the  bank. 
The  Western  horses  have  not  faith  in  us  like  our  domestic  horses 
have,  who  love  their  Masters  and  trust  them  when  they  get  in 
"tight"  places.  Those  Western  horses  have  been  brought  up 
to  rustle  for  themselves  and  they  have  faith  in  themselves,  and 
when  their  wild  senses  tell  them  they  cannot  do  things,  you 
can't  make  them.  I  once  had  this  same  horse  hitched  to  a  load 
of  corn  and  she  could  pull  it,  and  did  fine.  But  the  next  day  I 
hauled  another  load  and  the  men  put  on  a  little  more  corn,  and 
when  we  came  to  a  hill  and  she  felt  the  pull,  she  said  she 
couldn't,  and  she  didn't  pull  up.  She  broke  a  piece  out  of  the 
wagon  while  I  was  trying  to  inspire  her  with  a  little  confidence 
in  herself  and  .me.  I  got  a  boy  and  a  horse  to  help  me  up  three 
hills  on  the  road  and  then  I  started  to  make  the  rest  of  the  way 
myself  with  Dan  and  Daisy,  but  Daisy  was  suspicious.  I  hur- 
ried both  horses  when  I  came  to  any  little  swag  in  the  road, 
and  then  I  tapped  Dannie  with  the  whip,  but  I  clucked  to  Daisy, 
and  tapped  her  lightly  with  the  lines  for  she  had  felt  the  pull 
and  if  I  had  touched  her  with  the  whip  I  feared  she  would 
give  every  expressian  of  her  feelings  by  kicking  up,  and  if  she 
had  done  that  on  a  swag  we'd  never  have  gotten  out;  for  if  she 
had  stopped  with  that  weight  once,  it  would  have  been  "all 
day"  with  that  corn  getting  to  town.  I  learned  to  respect  her 
judgment  and  make  concessions  to  her  temper. 

I  rode  on  a  load  of  hay  one  day  that  had  no  boom  pole,  which 
was  a  foolish  thing  for  me  to  do.  We  came  down  an  awful 


188  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

hill  in  safety,  then  we  had  to  cross  a  creek  where  it  was  narrow, 
and  the  banks  bad  on  both  sides;  it  was  not  on  my  land.  I  had 
said  I  was  afraid  we'd  break  down  there,  but  the  men  had  hooted 
at  the  idea.  However,  we  drove  down  jolting  into  the  water 
and  took  the  upper  bank,  when  the  King  bolt  broke,  the  wagon 
tongue  came  out,  the  wagon  slid  back  and  stopped,  tilted  at  a 
sharp  angle.  I  had  been  lying  on  top  the  load  holding  to  a 
pitch-fork  stuck  deep  into  the  hay,  but  the  fork  came  out  with 
the  jolt,  and  I  slid  sideways  and  hung  on  a  balance,  with  my 
head  down.  I  yelled  to  a  young  fellow  on  the  load  to  catch 
hold  of  me,  for  I  had  been  very  ill  and  had  not  regained  my 
strength  in  full,  and  I  was  not  limbered  up,  but  he  wa€»nearly 
dead  laughing,  for  the  horses  started  to  run,  the  driver  fell  off  on 
his  knees;  the  men  behind  us  with  another  load  were  yelling 
their  best  at  the  fun,  and  it  tickled  him.  I  felt  the  load  shake 
as  he  laughed.  I  called  again  "Oh  do  take  hold  of  me;  If  I  fall 
I'll  fall  on  my  head  and  break  my  neck".  He  reached  out  and 
just  touched  my  neck,  and  I  was  so  nicely  balanced  my  heels 
slid  down  and  I  fell  off  the  load  and  landed  on  my  feet,  scared 
but  thankful.  I  was  absolutely  helpless,  I  felt  I  was  slipping, 
and  I  was  sure  I'd  break  my  neck. 

I  have  had  plenty  of  adventures,  but  these  are  enough,  and 
but  for  the  fact  that  I  am  glad  I  conquered  my  natural  cow- 
ardice, I'd  not  have  related  them.  Women  who  live  on  the 
farms  have  to  be  brave.  They  must  often  stay  alone  and  so 
many  things  happen  to  try  their  courage,  but  they  make  better 
Mothers  of  children  and  a  better  citizenship  is  due  to  the  in- 
spiration they  give  their  sons  and  daughters  to  be  brave.  I 
often  think  of  those  pioneer  women  who  could  endure  hard- 
ships, and  could,  if  necessary,  shoot  and  knife  and  tomahawk 
Indians,  to  save  their  homes  and  children,  and  I  say— We  are 
running  on  the  powerful  influence  of  those  women  yet,  we  need 
to  cultivate  brave  spirits,  and  eliminate  our  cowardice  by  our 
wills,  and  we  shall  master  our  fears  by  a  determined  spirit  in 
every  adventure  we  meet. 


A  LOVE  STORY  189 

MAKING  ROADS  AND  DITCHES. 


WORKING  THE  ROADS. 

I  like  to  help  make  roads  and  ditches.  In  the  first  place, 
on  my  farm,  I  think  out,  and  lay  out  the  task;  I  am  the  "boss". 
I  often  drive  the  horses  to  plough,  drag  or  scarper  while  the 
men  guide  the  tools  we  use. 

I  have  a  small  scraper  such  as  is  commonly  used  on  roads, 
but  I  bought  me  a  cutting  scraper  with  a  tongue,  and  this  is  my 
favorite  for  best  results.  I  had  a  field  into  which  a  mess  of 
water  ran  from  two  big  ravines,  and  from  the  hills  adjacent 
the  water  came  upon  us;  the  field  was  like  a  pond.  There  was 
no  good  outlet  so  that  I  could  tile,  besides,  I  considered  an  open 
ditch  best.  We  ploughed  and  then  cut  out  a  ditch  in  that  field 
three  and  a  half  feet  wide,  and  then  cut  and  hauled  with  the 
cutting  scraper  which  carried  almost  a  wagon  load  of  dirt,  and 
we  soon  had  that  ditch  done.  The  water  came,  and  the  first  big 
rain  scoured  the  ditch  out  clean,  and  now  the  field  has  relief 
from  that  water.  Across  another  field  we  cut  a  ditch  and  we 
hauled  the  dirt  we  cut,  out  into  low  swampy  places  and  squeezed 
a  lot  of  water  out.  A  small  swamp  and  pond,  is  now  dry  and 
ready  for  the  plough. 


190  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

I  had  a  field  that  had  a  slough  and  a  wriggling  runlet  in  it; 
it  was  a  horrid  place.  We  spent  a  day  ploughing  and  cutting  a 
ditch  of  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  along  the  edge  of  a 
high  bank.  We  used  the  earth  we  cut  out,  to  build  up  the  bank 
where  it  was  low,  and  we  made  it  so  the  water  could  not  slop 
over  at  the  turn,  and  the  field  now  looks  and  is  improved;  the 
slough  is  gone,  the  zigzag  runlet  is  filling  up  and  getting  out  of 
sight.  When  the  willow  roots  rot  out  which  we  cut,  we  can 
plough  over  and  get  rid  of  our  runlet  and  clear  the  field. 

I  always  boss  the  road  making.  I  keep  the  roads  narrow, 
and  do  not  stir  the  middle.  We  fill  in  the  low  places  and  turn 
off  the  water,  and  at  other  places  we  use  gravel  and  stone  to 
stop  washes  and  avoid  the  making  of  culverts.  Now  and  then 
'we  work  out  a  bad  place  on  a  turn.  We  use  our  scraper  in 
making  ditches  along  the  road  sides.  We  stand  it  on  one  corner 
and  it  cleans  out  a  ditch  and  saves  much  work.  Then  we  use 
the  drag  to  finish  up. 

My  men  worked  a  big  hill  near  my  farm  at  the  approach  to 
the  Wabash  River  bridge,  under  my  order,  for  I  am  obliged  to 
help  work  the  public  roads  if  I  can't  vote.  It  was  the  best  job 
that  was  ever  done  on  it  up  to  that  time,  and  had  it  been 
gravelled  or  stoned  would  have  been  permanent.  The  Road 
Commissioner  got  credit  for  that  job,  and  much  praise  too,  and 
yet  he  had  nothing  to  do  with  it;  he  ordered  my  men  to  a  place 
far  off,  and  I  told  them  they  could  not  go,  as  I  was  going  to 
have  that  awful  hill  worked;  and  it  was.  I  have  often  solicited 
the  job  of  Road  Commissioner  in  Effingham,  but  no,  I've  got  no 
vote,  and  though  I'd  make  better  and  cheaper  roads  than  those 
they  have,  they  would't  hire  me,  I  am  a  woman.  The  work  I 
have  done  has  been  on  my  own  farm,  and  adjacent,  where  I  have 
roads  a  plenty  to  look  after,  and  up  hill  and  down  too;  I  make 
them  in  all  sorts  of  places,  and  we  drive  everywhere  on  the  land, 
no  matter  how  hilly,  for  I'boss,  and  see  that  the  roads  are  made. 
I  talk  with  my  men  and  get  every  body's  ideas;  sometimes  their 's 
are  best,  sometimes  mine;  and  when  we  all  "blow  off"  our 
ideas,  and  we  talk  pretty  loud  sometimes,  we  go  to  work  with 
right  good  will,  and  we  have  some  roads  and  ditches  to  show 
for  it  all,  that  is  worth  while. 


A  LOVE  STORY  191 

SOWING  GRASS  AND  CLOVER  SEED. 

"Let  the  Earth  bring  forth  grasses".     Gen.  I-II. 
'  'He  maketh  the  grass  to  grow  upon  a  thousand 
hills".— Bible 

In  walking  over  my  farm  I  frequently  found  places  where 
there  seemed  to  be  little  or  no  grass,  and  where  it  appeared  to 
me  there  ought  to  be  grass. 

Finally  I  reasoned  it  out;  the  cattle  eat  the  seed,  the  roots 
do  not  spread  of  what  there  is,  rapidly  enough  to  make  good 
feeding.  So  I  began  to  sow  grass  seeds;  red  top,  timothy,  or- 
chard grass,  white,  red  and  hardy  and  sweet  and  alsike  clovers. 
Especially  I  sowed  on  the  broken  land.  I  carried  my  seed  in  a 
bucket  and  it  was  a  heavy  one,  and  I  surely .  did  perform  some 
gymnastic  feats,  sowing  the  seeds  on  steep  hill  sides.  The 
ground  was  often  so  slick  and  damp,  I  found  it  hard  to  keep 
foot  hold,  and  carry  my  bucket,  so  I  used  legs,  and  as  balancers, 
for  I  did  not  wish  to  slide  down  hill  and  risk  my  seeds,  for  the 
grass  and  clover  seeds  come  high  in  price  and  bid  fair  to  be 
no  less,  ever.  I  begin  now  to  raise  my  own  seed,  and  will  have 
a  seed  house  especially  for  them  soon. 

How  happy  I  was  when  I  found  the  seeds  I  sowed  springing 
up  in  all  sorts  of  places,  and  when  my  stock  began  to  find  and 
feed  upon  them.  It  seemed  to  me  that  the  plants  just  winked 
at  me  as  I  found  them  and  said,  "Here  we  are".  I  couldn't 
for  the  life  of 'me,  keep  from  calling  them  pretty  love  names, 
and  thanking  them  for  growing;  and  every  year  I  sow  more.  It 
is  a  pleasure  that  has  no  end. 

Paul,  that  wonderful  man,  teaches  us  a  good  lesson  when 
he  took  a  tiny  seed  in  his  hand  and  said  "Behold,  I  show  you  a 
mystery".  It  seems  as  if,  when  no  man  can  explain  the  mystery 
of  the  seed,  and  how  it  grows,  and  the  marvel  of  leaf,  bud  and 
flower  and  fruit,  all  hidden  in  that  tiny  circumference,  that 
men  would  hesitate  to  say  there  is  no  God. 

Goethe,  who  made  one  of  the  wonderful  discoveries  in  the 
Metamorphosis  of  Plants,  was  no  denier  of  God.  Like  the 
great  Agazzi,  he  was  reverent  before  the  Great  Source  of  all 
mysteries,  we  know  so  little  of  as  yet. 


192  .  .!  -  y  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

,  ,^       m,f        '.''"'-'  ' 

Tennyson  was  humble  before  God  when  he  said  "Behold, 
we  know  not  anything". 

I  remember  one  who  said  so  long  ago  '  'He  maketh  the  grass 
to  grow  upon  a  thousand  hills",  and  I  feel  I  am  a  co-worker  with 
God  when  I  sow  the  seed,  and  I  read  messages  from  On  High  when 
the  tiny  seeds  I  sow,  so  full  of  mystery,  come  up  and  speak  to 
me  from  the  bosom  of  old  Mother  Earth.  I  am  nearer  to  God, 
and  on  the  farm  I  feel  I  am  closer  to  Him  than  anywhere  in  the 
world.  I  am  not  vexed  so  much  with  evil  things  on  the  farm; 
I  can  live  in  the  silence  with  God.  I  can  live  in  the  midst  of 
mystery  and  beauty  and  life  on  the  farm.  And  so  I  sow  the 
seeds  of  grass  and  clover  and  am  thankful  when  they  grow. 


A  LOVE  STORY  _  193 


THE  FOOLS  PLAY. 

.FROM  MIDSUMMEK  NIGHT'S  DREAM.) 

''Oh  Bottom  thou  art  translated"—  Shakespeare. 

We  had  a  Lyceum  in  Effingham  once  upon  a 
time,  that  numbered  in  its  ranks  ambitious  young 
folks  of  all  sorts;  teachers,  lawyers,  musicians 
preachers  and  others.  We  used  to  try  our  wings 
with  high  ambition,  and  the  poets  and  players 
and  singers  all  took  part.  We  had  scenes  from 
The  Man  in  the  Shakespeare  in  which  we  tried  our  budding 
Moon-s  DOR  wings.  Once  we  essayed  the  Fool's  Play  from 
"Midsummer  Night's  Dream".  Our  stage  setting  was  of  the 
meagerest,  but  what  was  that  to  us?  We  supplied  all  we  lacked 
like  children,  and  those  happy  fools,  with  our  imagination. 
Oberon  and  Puck,  Titania  and  Peas  Blossom,  Moth  and  Cobweb 
and  Mustard  Seed,  Bottom,  John  Quill  and  the  other  fools  were 
all  represented.  We  invented  our  own  costumes.  Bottom's 
head  was  made  of  pasteboard  and  covered  with  brown  calico, 
then  dotted  with  spots  of  paint.  One  long  ear  had  a  string  at- 
tached, and  he  could  wag  it  at  his  will.  Thisbe,  draped  in  a 
sheet  and  a  table  cover  made  a  striking  heroine,  and  Pyramus 
was  terrible  as  an  ardent  lover  when  he  stabbed  himself  again  and 
again  with  a  knife  of  his  own  creation,  made  of  the  leaden  lining 
of  a  tea  box,  that  created  an  illusion  of  entry  into  his  flesh.  Titania 
was  a  sweet  little  lady  in  soft  gossamer.  The  fairies,  with 
Puck,  were  well  made  up  by  their  Mothers,  and  looked  cute  and 
mysterious  with  long  peacock  feathers,  in  their  caps.  The  man 
in  the  moon  carried  an  old  tin  lantern  pierced  with  holes,  which 
somebody  had  saved  from  the  long  ago,  his  sod,  his  little  terrier 
dog,  his  make  up  and  his  style  were  all  up  to  the  play.  I  was 
stage  manager.  It  was  a  funny  play  that  nearly  broke  us  up 
with  laughing,  and  our  audience  took  it  well.  Of  that  happy 
play  little  remains  but  the  tender  memories  and  the  friendships. 
Titania  like  the  fairies  is  no  more;  Quill  is  now  a  well  known 
public  man  ;  Bottom  is  a  successful  member  of  the  legal  profes- 
sion ;  Puck  is  a  very  fine  physician  ;  the  Man  in  the  Moon  is  a 


194  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

great  success  in  business;  Peas  Blossom  is  the  head  of  a  College 
of  Verterinary;  Mustard  Seed  is  a  wanderer;  I— well,  I  tell  the 
story  of  our  ambitious  youth,  coveting  the  best,  not  troubled  by 
any  difficulties  in  the  way.  Maybe  it  was  a  real  fools  play,  but 
we  were  not  conscious  of  that,  either. 

None  of  that  happy  company  were  dullards,  all  have  played 
good  parts  in  life.  The  curtain  of  life's  drama  rang  down  all 
too  soon  on  some  who  gave  great  promise  of  value  in  that  play. 

I  often  wish  our  Country  folks  would  present  the  Shake- 
spearian Rural  plays,  they  could.  In  Shakespeare's  day  most 
of  the  plays  were  given  out  of  doors,  just  as  some  are  now, 
notably  "As  You  Like  It";  others  are  susceptible.  Not  one  of 
that  bright  company  of  ours  who  gave  the  Fool's  Play,  were 
tempted  to  the  stage  as  a  profession.  The  Play  and  its  presen- 
tation were  a  means  of  culture,  and  became  alive  in  them  in 
various  ways.  How  much  better  it  would  be  to  give  such  plays 
in  the  Country  places,  studying  a  great  poet,  and  peopling  the 
woods  and  streams  and  all  the  country  places,  with  the  mind  of 
Shakespeares  Imps  and  Fairies— how  much  better  than  many 
things  we  do.  I'm  a  "Hayseed"  now  and  as  we  Hayseeds  fur- 
nish so  much  brain  and  brawn  to  the  world  we  could  also  fur- 
nish good  expositions  of  the  minds  and  hearts  of  the  greatest 
thinkers  and  writers,  and  on  our  farms  if  we  would. 


A  LOVE  STORY  195 

THE  SHE  BEARS. 

It  is  written  that  a  lot  of  naughty  children  came  out  of  a 
village  in  the  ancient  days  and  mocked  Elijah,  the  old  Prophet, 
and  that  two  She  Bears  came  out  of  the  woods  and  tore  forty 
and  two  of  these  children.  I  often  wonder  why  we  denounce 
the  Old  Book  and  its  teachings,  and  laud  the  Pagan  mytholygies. 
It  is  patent  that  the  She  Bears  of  disrespect  and  irreverence, 
tear  the  youth  of  today  in  their  treatment  of  the  aged,  and  holy 
things;  we  do  not  seem  as  Christians,  to  be  as  far  along  the 
route  of  respect  for  the  good  and  true  in  civilization,  as  the  Jew, 
the  Confucian  and  the  Hindoo  are  in  theirs.  The  Jew  cherishes 
the  aged  and  holy  men  and  women.  The  Chinese  exact  respect 
of  their  young  by  law  for  those  who  are  old.  When  the  hill 
men  of  the  Hymalayas  snatched  old  "Red  Hat"  from  the 
Christian  Russian  Spies  they  believed  that  disrespect  of  his  age 
and  holiness,  would  bring  disaster  upon  their  households,  their 
cattle  and  their  fields. 

Under  the  most  favorable  condition  we  seem  to  raise  many 
of  our  youngsters  like  "hoodlums".  Murderous  games  ap- 
proved by  the  heads  of  Schools  and  Colleges  would  not  be  tol- 
erated by  Jews  and  Chinamen  among  their  young.  Our 
youngsters  are  rushed  around  the  Country  to  play  match  games 
where  they  kill  each  other  without  compunction  or  conscience, 
and  the  public  goes  to  get  "thrills".  Many  of  our  young  of 
both  sexes  have  no  use  for  religion,  and  they  elbow  and  run 
over  those  whose  years  ought  to  bring  respect  at  least. 

Oh  yes,  the  "She  Bears"  story  is  true,  and  it  is  just  as  good 
now  as  the  day  it  was  written,  when  old  Elijah  went  about 
-doing  good,  and  the  children  and  youth  mocked  him,  and  the 
""She  Bears  tore  them". 


196  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

THE  ROSE  GARDEN. 

"Sweet  Rose  to  thee  I  speak,  Oh,  hear  me  what  I  say".— 
Villa  Gillespie. 

I  have  many  June  Roses  on  my  farm  in  my  Rose  Garden. 
I  know  them  and  for  years  I  have  gathered  them  up.  Since 
women  have  come  to  dislike  the  clutter  of  the  rose  that  blooms 
only  in  June,  many  have  destroyed  in  the  yards  and  gardens 
the  old  June  roses;  but  I  have  many  and  love  them  for  their 
profusion,  their  fragrance,  and  for  the  dear  old  memories  con- 
nected with  them.  A  little  semi-double  red  rose  that  blooms 
the  first  of  spring  is  sweet  to  me  with  memories  of  my  Mother 
who  cultured  and  prized  it,  and  it  reminds  me  of  other  dear 
friends  who  -kept  it  in  their  yards.  The  great  pink  cabbage 
roses,  the  pale  blush  old  provence  roses,  the  white  rose  with 
its  creamy  heart,  the  briery  yellow  and  white  scotch  roses,  the 
old  damasks,  and  deep  dark  reds  are  as  rich  to  me  with  memo- 
ries as  they  are  with  perfume.  So  I  love  them  and  culture 
them  all,  and  refresh  my  spirit.  I  gather  armfulls  of  them  in 
their  season  and  visit  them  constantly  during  their  blooming. 
My  hybrid  perpetuals  and  bourbons  and  teas  and  baby  roses, 
regale  me  with  beauty  and  fragrance  from  April  till  almost 
December  each  year.  They  run  the  whole  gamut  of  color,  from 
palest  white  to  deepest  crimson  and  their  fragrance  is  constant. 
The  hard  winters  have  culled  out  many  a  tender  one,  but  they 
can  always  be  replaced.  I  have  a  bed  of  sand  and  mould,  and 
in  August  and  September  I  fill  it  with  cuttings  which  I  cover 
with  bottles  and  jars,  and  in  the  spring  I  remake  my  rose  bed 
with  many  new  plants  of  my  own  raising,  and  they  root  and 
thrive  under  glass  and  bottle,  and  I  can  make  a  rose  gift  to  a 
friend  now  and  then.  If  one  has  time  one  can  play  Luther 
Burbank  and  plant  seeds,  and  fertilize  and  hybridize  new  va- 
rieties, and  so  become  a  sort  of  miracle  worker  among  the  roses. 
The  excitement  of  the  work  is  wholesome  and  delightful. 

The  Sun  Dial  stands  like  a  sentinel  in  my  rose  garden  and 
reminds  us  of  the  flight  times  makes.  Near  by  my  rose  garden 
some  grape  vines  stand  and  blend  their  odors  with  the  roses  in 
the  Spring. 


A  LOVE  STORY 


EDMUND  1  JA^ES 


All  farmers  can  have  rose  gardens  if  they  will,  and  Sun 
Dials  too.  There's  room  for  both,  and  need  for  the  delight  that 
springs  from  beauty,  fragrance  and  color— and  time. 


THE  SUN  DIAL. 

Come,  Come,  old  Sol  and  tell  me  what's  the  hour. 


Out  where  the  sun  strikes  it,  and 
squared  to  the  Compass  stands  my 
Sun  Clock,  the  Sun  Dial;  the  only  one 
that  I  know  of  in  my  whole  County, 
and  perhaps  in  many  Counties  in  this 
region  of  the  earth.  Old  Sol  is  har- 
nessed for  me,  He  is  my  timekeeper 
and  he  cannot  lie.  Only  it  is  hard  on 
him  and  us,  when  the  clouds  take  pos- 
session and  he  cannot  speak,  for  he  is 
obedient  to  law  also.  But  it's  worth 
while  to  have  a  Sun  Dial.  They  are 
cheap  and  substantial  and  in  addition 
to  keeping  exact  time,  are  a  source  of 
wonder  and  pleasure  to  all  who  pass 
my  way.  I  often  think  if  I  had  time 
to  study  my  Sun  Dial  more,  and  spend 
more  time  with  it,  that  I  should  find 
out  for  myself,  some  of  these  wonder- 
ful laws  of  God,  of  which  there  is  no 
square,  level  and  plumb  with  right- 


end,  and  which  are  all 

eousness,  as  the  Sun  Dial  is  to  the  Compass. 


198  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

LANDING  SOME  POST-OFFICE  OFFICIALS. 

I  had  a  friend  who  sent  her  young  daughter  to  wait  upon  a 
sick  women  who  was  poor,'  and  had  a  doubtful  character.  My 
friend  was  so  full  of  sympathy  for  the  sick  one,  that  she  not 
only  sent  her  daughter  to  her,  but  went  herself  with  tender 
ministrations.  I  told  her  she  should  not  have  sent  her  daughter, 
but  she  thought  I  was  mistaken  about  the  woman.  My  friend, 
however,  became  suspicious  of  the  parties  who  came  to  the 
woman's  house,  and  she  learned  that  one  was  a  Post-Office  In- 
spector. It  seemed  incredible,  but  we  trailed  things  down  and 
we  found  we  had  a  sure  enough  Post-Office  Inspector  who  was 
taking  a  harlot  all  over  the  country  with  him  on  his  trips  to  in- 
spect our  Post-Offices.  The  two  of  us  reported  him  to  the 
Post-master  General,  who  sent  another  inspector  to  inspect  this 
one,  and  he. found  we  had  the  facts  correct;  that  this  man  had 
been  taking  a  harlot  with  him  to  inspect  our  Post-offices.  He 
was  playing  the  part  of  best  friend  to  her.  The  second  In- 
spector told  us  he  made  that  man  "shake  in  his  shoes;"  he  was  so 
bad  scared  he  could  not  eat.  He  had  a  fine  wife  and  two 
daughters  just  graduated  from  High  School.  We  were  asked 
to  hold  our  tongues,  which  we  did  until  now.  The  Inspector 
was  not  dropped  at  once  as  he  ought  to  have  been.  A  Govern- 
mental election  was  pending  and  he  probably  had  influential 
friends  that  it  was  not  desirable  to  disturb  I  suppose;  but  no 
doubt  he  was  dropped  at  the  first  opportunity.  If  we  had  not  been 
certain  of  this  we  should  have  made  "a  racket"  at  once.  We 
too  felt  for  the  wife  and  daughters  he  had  betrayed,  but  he  was 
a  scandal  to  the  Government  and  to  our  Country,  and  needed 
chastisement. 

I  found  another  Post-master  on  the  bond  of  a  debased 
criminal,  and  he  had  solicited  others  to  go  on  the  bond.  I  com- 
plained of  him  to  the  Post-master  General  and  later  to  Presi- 
dent Taft,  because  the  Post-master  General  was  too  slow  to  suit 
the  case,  which  was  pressing,  but  the  Post-master  periled  his 
job,  and  he  had  to  get  off  the  bond.  I  pay  taxes,  I  am  a  part  of 
the  Government,  and  no  Government  official  in  my  territory 
shall  break  the  law  if  I  find  it  out,  nor  can  he  use  the  influence 
of  the  Government  to  protect  criminals.  I  will  not  allow  it. 


A  LOVE  STORY  199 

I  may  be  too  low  in  the  scale  of  being  for  my  countrymen  to 
let  me  use  the  ballot  which  is  my  right,  but  some  things  I  can 
do  and  I  do  them.  Government  Officials  can  be  sure  of  trouble 
if  they  break  law  where  I  am,  and  I  find  it  out.  I  had  rather 
help  elect  officials  to  enforce  law,  as  to  chase  lawbreakers,  but 
my  country-men  refuse  me  the  opportunity  so  I  take  up  the  task 
I  can  do,  and  bring  offenders  up  standing  when  I  can,  and  I 
am  glad  we  caught  and  brought  those  Post-office  officials  to 
book. 

I  have  since  then  been  after  the  Dieterich  Post  Office  in 
Effingham  County,  where  the  Postmaster  owns  the  building,  one 
side  of  which  and  under  the  same  roof,  he  rents  for  a  saloon.  I 
have  made  complaint  to  the  Postmaster  General  and,  I  told  the 
Post  Office  Inspector  who  came  at  my  call,  that  with  the  States 
legislating  saloons  four  miles  from  Churches  and  School  Houses, 
it  was  outrageous  for  the  Government  to  allow  such  a  condition 
of  things  in  Illinois  and  in  Effingham  County.  I  said,  '  'You 
may  think  we  like  it,  but  we  don't,  and  one  of  these  days  it 
will  result  in  disaster  to  your  Party  here".  So  far  the  Govern- 
ment does  nothing,  but  I  am  not  done.  I  have  reported  an- 
other Post  Office  where  for  ten  years  liquor  was  sold  without 
license  in  the  Post  Office  and  only  stopped  when  the  Postmaster 
was  indicted.  The  degraded,  people  made  by  those  long  years 
of  a  Post  Office  saloon  still  exist,  and  the  Post  Office  at  that 
place  is  a  rendezvous  for  them  I  am  told,  even  yet.  I  do  not  as 
yet  know  what  has  been  done,  but  this  I  know.  I  am  not  yet 
done  with  either  of  these  Post  Offices. 


200  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

FAIRIES,  BROWNIES,  NYMPHS,  GNOMES  AND  GENII. 

ARIEL.  - 

'  'Before  you  can  say  come  and  go 
And  breathe  twice  and  say  so,  so, 
Each  one  tripping  on  his  toe 
Will  be  here." 

PROSPERO- 

" 'Ariel,  chick  be  free" .  — Tempest. 

When  Ben  Franklin  told  the  world  Electricity  was  not  man- 
ufactured, but  collected,  men  laughed  and  scoffed  and  looked 
solemn.  When  he  said  the  thunder  was  not  God's  voice  rebuk- 
ing men  from  the  heavens,  but  the  operation  of  that  unseen 
force  Electricity,  horror-stricken  men  declared  him  a  blasphemer. 
But  when  he  captured  the  electric  spark,  with  kite  and  key  and 
handkerchief,  there  was  a  great  awakening  over  the  earth. 
When,  with  the  practical  bent  that  American  thinkers  have,  he 
invented  the  lightning  r,od,  men  who  are  more  afraid  of  light- 
ning than  of  all  the  other  tremendous  forces  of  nature,  set  them 
up  on  their  houses,  all  over  the  world  and  made  our  Great  Ben- 
jamin a  member  of  Royal  Societies  (not  very  scientific  then), 
and  lauded  him.  I  often  wonder  if,  when  Franklin  sent  up  his 
kite  with  a  key  and  handkerchief  attached,  if  he  felt  all  or  any 
of  the  things  that  were  to  grow  out  of  that  simple  experiment. 
No  doubt  he  had  his  dreams  as  Samuel  Morse  had  too,  when  he 
said  '  'I  can  take  that  power  which  Franklin  captured  and  har- 
nessed, and  I  can  make  it  work  for  men  long  distances  apart 
and  make  it  do  their  bidding,  and  they  can  talk  to  each  other  as 
face  to  face".  Cyrus  Field  later  on,  dreamed  his  dream  of 
linking  the  whole  world  together  with  the  power  Franklin  cap- 
tured, and  Morse  utilized  according  to  his  dream,  and  we  sit 
under  the  evening  lamps  or  in  the  morning  light  and  say,  as 
the  first  message,  over  the  first  submarine  cable  said,  '  'What 
hath  God  wrought".  For  be  it  known  the  men  then,  who  stud- 
ied God's  laws  did  not  deny  their  author.  These  three  men 
drew  the  world  to-gether  as  one  family,  as  a  free  people,  as 
free  thinkers.  It  was  easy  for  them  to  think  God's  thoughts 
after  him. 


A  LOVE  STORY  201 

Later  came  Marconi  with  wireless  telegraphy,  who  sent  the 
Fairies,  Brownies,  Nymphs  and  Gnomes  and  Genii  of  electricity 
and  thought,  to  run  upon  the  errands  of  men  still  farther  over 
wires  and  through  the  air. 

Then  came  Bell  with  the  telephone,  and  captured  earth  and 
air  and  water,  sea  and  sky.  We  rub  the  magic  penny  and  the 
genii  come  and  go,  as  we  will  them  to. 

Edison  illuminated  the  world,  and  he  made  dull  matter 
speak.  What  a  marvelous  vista  opens  to  the  spiritual  eye  of 
those  who  think.  Nothing  seems  impossible  to  those  who  re- 
member Him  who  promised  man  that  all  things  should  be  put 
under  his  feet.  These  marvels  God  has  sent  to  the  World, 
through  a  free  people,  in  a  free  land.  Franklin  was  a  Free 
Thinker  in  his  day,  and  so  were  Morse  and  Field;  Marconi  is  a 
descendent  of  those  vigorous  mountaineers,  the  Waldenses,  who 
demanded  and  had  freedom,  and  suffered  for  it  when  the  rest 
of  the  world  had  none.  I  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  these 
wonderful  men  were  all  Protestants.  The  old  Fairy  Stories  are 
coming  true.  Una  rides  her  lion  in  deed  and  in  truth,  and  the 
Fairies,  Brownies,  Gnomes,  Nymphs  and  Genii  still  work  for 
man. 

I  sometimes  dearly  wish  Ben  Franklin,  Samuel  Morse  and 
Cyrus  Field  could  attend  a  great  World's  Exposition  and  see  all 
the  marvels  that  have  grown  out  of  Electricity,  and  shake  hands 
with  Thomas  Edison  and  Wm.  Marconi.  I  wander  around  try- 
ing to  understand  miracles,  and  fairyland,  and  wonder  what 
next;  but  I. cannot  think  any  further  than  I  see;  but  I  wish  these 
splendid  men  who  set  these  stupendous  wonders  at  work  could 
see  it  all.  and  I  know  they  could  tell  us,  there  is  more  to  fol- 
low. 


202  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


DOMESTIC  SCIENCE  AND  VINEGAR. 

Domestic  Science  is  a  popular  and  charming  name  these 
days,  and  it  has  dignified  the  work  of  the  women  who  labor  in 
house  and  kitchen  and  dairy. 

The  Practitioners  of  it  have  been  many  but  there  was  no 
halo  around  the  work  of  women  for  long  time.  It  commanded 
no  wages  and  was  considered  inconsequential  beside  the  work 
Of  men,  though  it  was  fundamental  to  the  whole  structure  of 
society.  No  wonder  women  began  to  despise  what  was  de- 
spised, and  sought  to  escape  the  never  ending  drudgery  of  cook- 
ing, dish  washing,  etc. ,  and  went  where  better  wages  in  other 
occupations  more  respected  awaited  them.  Domestic  Science 
invests  the  woman's  work  in  house  and  kitchen  with  a. certain 
clignity.  There  is  a  fascination  to  the  young  in  knowing  the 
reason  why  for  the  common  things  about  them.  I  think  there 
is  a  fascination  in  it  too.  If  I  had  children  I'd  run  classes  in 
my  own  kitchen  and  house  and  lead  my  youngsters  to  be  exper- 
imenters. I  have  been  practicing  a  little  myself.  In  a  Vine- 
gar jug  I  found  a  bit  of  Vinegar  plant  called  "Mother",  and  I 
mixed  some  strained  honey  that  was  old,  with  water,  and  strained 
it  again  put  it  into  a  large  clear  glass  jar,  turned  the  vinegar 
plant  into  it  and  set  it  on  my  kitchen  table  so  I  could  watch  it. 
How  that  Vinegar  plant  did  grow!  I  started  other  plants  and 
soon  I  had  a  lot  of  fine  Vinegar  coming  on.  I  washed  all  the 
kettles  in  which  I  canned  fruit  or  made  preserves  with  clean 
soft  water,  strained  it  and  put  a  little  of  the  plant  from  my 
first  stock  in  it  in  bottles,  and  in  every  jar  it  grows  and  I  have 
much  more  Vinegar  than  I  can  use,  and  the  honey  Vinegar  I 
find  is  a  most  delicious  drink  if  diluted  with  water  and  sweet- 
ened. The  Grape  and  Blackberry  sweetening  makes  pretty  red 
Vinegar.  The  honey  Vinegar  is  like  a  Topaz  in  color,  and  all 
the  children  who  see  my  Vinegar  plant  admire  and  wonder  at 
the  story  of  the  "Mother"  or  Vinegar  plant.  Sometimes  I 
teach  them  how  to  make  Vinegar  and  give  them  a  bottle  full 
of  sweetened  water  and  a  piece  of  the  plant  for  a  starter.  This 
is  on  the  domestic  science  line  and  I  admire  and  wonder  and  en- 
joy and  use  and  I  drink  the  home  product  of  my  plant,  and  I 


A  LOVE  STORY  203 

save  some  mony  too.  for  I  have  no  Vinegar  to  buy.  From  my 
Ancestors  I  learned  economy;  I  have  seen  apple  parings  and  the 
washing  of  the  molasses  jug  and  barrel,  all  turned  into  the  use- 
ful product  Vinegar. 

Let  us  fascinate  ourselves  with  the  Science,  that  underlies 
the  domestic  life  of  country  and  town,  and  teach  the  youngsters 
to  honor  and  love  the  labor  of  the  kitchen  and  the  house  and  go 
into  the  Chemistry  of  the  kitchen  and  the  house  too,  and  into 
the  Chemistry  of  Vinegar  making,  as  well  as  the  Chemistry 
of  foods  and  of  other  things. 


204  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

THE  NUDE  IN  ART. 

A  dear  friend  once  said  to  me  "The  strongest  reason  in  my 
mind  for  objecting  to  the  nude  in  art  lies  in  the  fact  that  men 
and  women  are  not  at  their  ease  together,  in  nude  Art  exhibits". 

There  is  a  class  of  physical  culturists  who  declare  that  the 
objection  to  nudity  is  immaterial,  and  to  cure  it,  children  should 
be  cultured  to  run  together  nude  till  puberty  at  least;  Kraft 
Ebbing's  terrible  book  shows  these  creatures  know  nothing 
morally.  The  Congo  and  the  African  negro,  along  with 
Cannibals,  Patagonias  and  some  Indians  run  naked,  together, 
but  as  to  morals  and  chastity  they  are  absolutely  ignorant,  and 
women  are  bought  and  sold,  killed,  given  away,  and  used  as  beasts 
of  burden  by  the  men  who  own  them.  People  do  not  wish  to  sink 
to  the  level  of  the  savages  as  to  nudity.  The  debased  of  all 
peoples  from  the  earliest  times  till  now,  cultured  nakedness  of 
the  body,  from  the  Esquimo  to  the  Congo  negro.  It  is  said  that 
when  Adam  and  Eve  found  they  had  no  garments  on  they  made 
haste  to  get  some  though  they  were  only  leaves  at  first. 

When  Noah  got  drunk  on  pure  wine  from  his  own  vineyard, 
it  is  said  his  son  found  him,  his  naked  body  exposed,  and  told 
two  other  brothers,  who  at  once  put  a  mantle  on  their  shoulders 
and  walking  backward  covered  their  father's  shame.  Noah  is 
said  to  have  cursed  his  son  on  that  occasion,  and  African  slav- 
ery, it  is  said,  begun  then.  The  sons  who  covered  their  father's 
nakedness  received  a  blessing.  There  is  a  moral  to  this  story, 
though  some  may  doubt  it.  Nudity  is  not  a  desirable  nor  safe 
proposition.  Many  who  claim  to  be  artists  do  not  put  a  leaf  even^ 
on  nakedness,  and  yet  they  want  all  the  world  to  admire  their 
work.  It  seems  a  perversion  of  natural  law.  An  attempt  not 
long  ago  to  foist  a  drunken,  naked  dancing  bachantte  upon  a 
public  library  as  a  work  of  Art,  and  creatures  half  beast,  half 
man,  nude,  to  be  gazed  upon  as  "artistic,"  shows  how  perverted 
many  artists  and  others  have  become,  and  how  determined  they 
are  to  force  their  evil  productions  on  others. 

The  artistic  class  which  howls  the  loudest  that  nude  art  is 
pure,  is  a  licentious  class.  Du  Maurier  painted  the  ateliers  not 
only  of  Paris  but  of  the  whole  civilized  world  in  Trilby.  '  'Little 
Billie"  voiced  the  sentiment  of  an  outraged  decency  in  civilized 


A  LOVE  STORY  205 

man  when  he  cursed  and  swore  and  kicked  things  about  after 
he  saw  poor,  motherless  Trilby  posing  in  the  "Altogether",  and 
poor  Trilby  smirched  by  her  long  atelier  and  artistic  associations 
had  in  her  yet  a  sense  of  decency  and  modesty,  that  awoke  and 
purified  her,  when  she  saw  the  pity  and  shame  and  wrath  in 
"Little  Billies's"  face.  She  dropped  atelier  life  and  all  it 
meant,  and  went  to  earn  a  poor  living  at  the  wash  tub. 

The  cry  of  "To  the  pure  all  things  are  pure"  is  a  specious 
one.  I  have  asked  many  "What  is  the  rest  of  that  quotation", 
but  no  one  replies.  The  whole  of  it  is,  '  'To  the  pure  all  things 
are  pure,  but  when  the  mind  and  conscience  is  defiled,  nothing 
is  pure".  It  is  a  dangerous  thing  to  possess  a  mind  and  con- 
science defiled.  Liberties  with  the  nude  result  in  degradation 
of  the  sense  of  decency.  "Pure  by  impure  is  not  seen"  says 
one.  This  cry  is  too  often  raised  by  those  who  have  little  or  no 
sense  of  purity.  We  can  face  anything  no  matter  how  shocking 
if  necessity  demands  it.  Witness  the  hard  and  dreadful  things 
that  nurses  have  to  see  and  do,  and  that  people  face  in  times  of 
sickness,  of  accident  or  great  disasters  by  fire  and  flood.  To 
view  the  real  nude  thus  does  not  corrupt;  fear  and  pain  and  an- 
guish and  death  sanctify  it  and  there  is  no  corruption  in  it.  To 
look  upon  the  nude  with  pleasure  is  forbidden  in  the  nature  of 
things,  and  the  eyes  of  all  who  do  it,  are,  like  those  of 
"Peeping  Tom"  put  out.  The  result  is  evil  and  evil  only. 
Witness  the  nudities  indulged  in  by  savage  women,  and  harlots. 
The  Salome  dances,  with  a  few  inches  of  chiffon  and  some 
pieces  of  colored  glass,  the  only  clothing  on  shameless  women; 
the  absolute  nudities  in  some  places  of  Amusement,  a  step  or 
two  lower,  before  a  company  composed  of  male  and  female 
bawds;  the  Saturnalias  of  Greece  and  Rome  reproduced  in  mod- 
ern times.  The  Saturnalia  of  the  harlot,  and  the  harlots  house, 
is  set  upon  the  stage  to  entertain  the  cultured  and  decent 
classes!— in  the  name  of  Art!  The  young  man  and  woman  be- 
come saturated  with  these  vice  studies  in  the  name  of  Art  and 
Culture,  and  develop  in  themselves  the  devils  of  indecency  and 
unchastity,  and  the  nudities  they  pattern  after  lead  them  down- 
ward to  the  limbo  of  moral  obliquity  and  lost  lives. 

The  Romans,  so  cultivated,  so  educated,  such  seekers  after 
the  true  and  beautiful  in  Art,  and  great  advocators  and  expon- 


206  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

ents  of  the  nude  in  art  and  life  were  Pagans.  Their  young 
of  both  sexes  were  instructed  in  indecency  because  it  was 
thought  to  be  natural.  The  girls  were  set  upon  the  knees  of 
the  great  God  Priapus,  and  instructed  in  indecency  and  lust. 
The  temples  to  indecency  surpassed  all  others  in  numbers  and 
beauty.  The  Venus  of  Indecency  had  more  temples  than  any 
other  goddess;  indecent  sculpture  was  everywhere  found  as  in 
India  to-day.  The  marked  difference  between  Paganism  and 
Christianity  was  the  emphasis  Christianity  laid  upon  chastity, 
and  its  corollary  the  clothing  of  the  body.  Among  Christian 
women  in  holy  orders,  the  body  in  a  sense  is  elevated,  and  a 
woman  in  a  habit,  is  safe  anywhere.  The  Salvation  Army  las- 
sies go  where  they  will.  The  women  who  exposes  her  body 
naked  or  in  whole,  is  safe  nowhere;  she  excites  lust,  not 
chastity;  the  devils  of  destruction  trail  her,  and  too  often  get 
her. 

The  Pagan  Romans  so  hated  the  Christians  for  rebuking 
nakedness  of  the  body,  and  for  their  teaching  of  chastity  and 
the  wearing  of  chaste  clothing,  that  Roman  Magistrates  de- 
lighted to  order  Christian  women  exposed  nude,  to  the  gaze  of  a 
brutal  populace.  The  good  Theodora,  a  widow,  said  to  the  Mag- 
istrate who  ordered  her  to  be  hung  up  naked  before  the  mob, 
"Art  thou  not  ashamed  to  expose  me,  when  by  so  doing  thou 
exposest  thy  own  wife  and  mother  who  are  women"?  Young 
Christian  girls  were  stripped  of  their  garments  and  given  nude 
to  the  soldiers.  The  history  of  the  Church  is  full  of  miracles 
wrought  to  protect  them.  Of  St.  Agnes  it  is  said  her  long  soft 
hair  grew  in  a  moment  like  a  veil  and  covered  her,  and  the  sol- 
diers feared  to  touch  her.  Pagan  Roman's  men  and  women, 
used  the  b#th  together,  nude. 

Sinkewitz  in  Quo  Vadis,  paints  the  status  of  artistic  and 
cultured  Rome  in  the  saturnalian  feasts,  held  by  the  most  cul- 
tured and  highest  classes,  where  men  and  women  tore  off  their 
garments  and  indulged  in  the  grossest  immoralities.  Saturna- 
lian orgies  as  gross  in  these  later  days  in  America  put  our  peo- 
ple to  shame,  and  debauch  our  children  and  youth. 

The  nude  in  Art  is  a  revival  of  the  Pagan  and  animal  in 
man  and  all  that  is  implied  by  that.  An  Artist  once  made  a 
statue  of  Abraham  Lincoln— sans  clothing.  It  was  shocking, 


A  LOVE  STORY  207 

and  is  not  known.  I  read  of  an  Artist  who  said  he  would  never 
again  make  a  statue  of  a  man  with  garments  on!  Such  ugly 
things  as  are  made  and  called  Art!  Monsters,  with  abnormal 
muscles,  posed  in  all  sorts  of  ridiculous  attitudes;  men  more  like 
gorillas  than  human  'beings;  women  like  bawds  and  posed  like 
silly  fools,  both  nude;  and  we  are  called  upon  to  be  ravished 
with  this  stuff  called  Art! 

Let  us  tell  the  truth  and  ridicule  such  things  and  denounce 
them,  and  cultivate  the  Christian  sense  of  decency  and  chastity, 
teach  it  to  our  youth,  instead  of  the  Pagan  sense  of  Nudity  and 
Indecency.  The  Romans— where  did  their  Art  take  them?  To 
destruction.  It  was  a  destroyer— this  Nude  in  Art— and  the 
Romans  who  worshipped  it  are  no  more,  nor  will  any  Nation 
endure  that  walks  that  way.  The  Nudities  hung  upon  our  great 
Exposition  walls  are  debasing  and  ought  to  be  denounced  and 
removed.  I  love  the  clean  sense  of  the  Country  folk  who  do 
denounce  immorality  and  teach  their  children  to  clothe  the  body, 
even  if  the  artistic  and  cultured  classes  do  poke  fun  at  them. 
They  are  clean  and  decent,  and  they  know  such  things  are 
neither.  The  Nude  in  Art  is  not  intended  to  uplift.  It  is 
sensual,  and  demands  a  sensual  environment,  and  creates  sen- 
suality, and  drags  like  the  undertow  of  the  sea,  on  those  who 
follow  it  as  Art— or  otherwise,  to  destruction. 


203  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

THE  FERN  BEDS,  AND  SHRUBS  AND  FLOWERS. 

I  watch  with  sharp  eyes  the  woodsy  places,  the  thickets 
and  the  boggy  bottom  spots,  and  the  ravines,  for  ferns.  I  have 
gathered  all  sorts  from  the  mammoth  varieties  to  the  little 
Specis,  Brakes,  Pteris,  Maiden  Hair,  Evergreen  varieties,  and 
many  I  do  not  know  and  have  not  time  to  learn  the  names  of. 
I  plant  them  close  about  my  house  in  shady  places— most  of  them, 
though  two  or  three  I  know  are  fond  of  sunlight;  I  dug  them 
out  of  sunny  places  with  my  tile  spade,  with  much  tugging  at 
the  earth  which  I  stirred  for  the  first  time  since  the  world 
began.  I  dug  some  in  the  roots  of  hazels,  and  other  brush,  en- 
tangled with  the  fern  roots.  I  see  them  every  day  and  feed  my 
sense  of  beauty  and  adorn  my  house.  I  am  glad  when  I  find  a 
new  variety.  * 

If  the  farmer  would  fence  his  yard  to  keep  the  chickens 
out  with  their  sharp  claws,  and  investigating  minds,  the  women 
and  children  could  have  plants  and  ferns,  and  study  and  enjoy 
the  beautiful  things  of  Nature,  and  grow  thus  in  the  knowledge 
of  real  things,  and  of  the  laws  that  govern  them. 

I  had  an  Uncle  who,  when  a  baby  three  years  old,  would 
get  out  of  bed  like  a  little  cherub  and  in  his  "nightie"  wander 
up  and  down  the  garden  walks  smelling  at  the  flowers;  and  every 
child  might  have  that  privelege  and  give  its  Mother  respite  for 
a  time..  The  farmer's  children  often  leave  the  farm  and  wand- 
er off  because  no  means  is  taken  to  bring  some  beauty  into 
their  lives.  My  fern  beds  help  to  tie  me  to  the  farm.  I  never 
smell  a  Calacanthus  but  I  remember  my  maternal  Grand- 
mother's garden,  and  I  plant  that  shrub  in  my  garden  as,  to  her 
memory— how  good  it  smells  with  its  big  brown  buds— and  to  the 
big  old  plant  that  stood  so  near  the  pump  and  that  was  loaded 
every  year  with  brown  strawberry  scented  blossoms.  My  Fath- 
er's Mother  lives  forever  to  me,  in  every  Pansy,  Petunia  and 
Mignonette  I  see  or  smell,  and  the  Portulaccas  are  in  evidence  of 
her  whenever  I  look  into  their  pretty  faces.  I  always  see  my 
Grandmothers  amid  the  flowers.  I  see  my  Mother  amid  flowers 
and  fruits.  I  see  my  Father  in  his  garden  among  his  flowers. 
Their  memories  are  sweet  with  lovely  growing  things  and  good, 
and  so  the  ferns  and  shrubs  and  flowers  I  love  and  want,  and  I 


A  LOVE  STORY  209 

plant  them  close  to  my  house  walls  where  they  give  me  a  wel- 
come every  year.  I  want  all  within  to  see  and  love  them  too. 
The  Tulip  beds  are  gay  so  early  in  the  Spring  with  gorgeous 
blooms  of  every  hue,  and  so  many  are  fragrant.  I  found  out 
the  peacocks  loved  gay  colors  by  my  big  tulip  bed,  for  it  is  there 
they  love  to  walk  and  gaze  about  as  if  the  tulips  were  their  kin. 
Tulips  among  flowers  are  the  richest  in  varied  hues,  as  the 
peacocks  are  among  the  birds. 


THE  VIOLET. 

The  violet's  sweet  perfume  floods  all  the  air, 

And  wakes  anew  within  my  soul, 

Dear  Memories  profound  that  make*  me  glad. 

It  asks  so  little  and  it  gives  so  much; 

It  quickens  me  with  dreams  I  do  not  understand; 

My  thoughts  fly  far  I  know  not  where  — 

Thy  tiny  Censer  swings, 

And  I  a  moments  space  am  satisfied. 


210  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

THE  CELLAR,  AND  THE  CHICKEN  HOUSE  IN  THE  HILLS. 

I  had  meant  to  raise  incubator  chickens,  so  we  dug  in  a  hill 
at  the  rear  of  the  houses,  excavating  about  four  feet.  We  used 
dynamite  as  the  earth  was  hard  and  sometimes  frozen.  It  was 
dry  that  winter  so  we  dug  a  pit  about  12x16  ft,  and  then  we 
cut  logs  and  dragged  in  and  piled  them  up  log  house  fashion  till 
the  cellar  was  about  10x7  in  height.  This  we  roofed  with  poles 
cut  on  the  place,  and  on  top  of  this  we  spread  corn  fodder  thick, 
then  on  top  of  that  a  bed  of  leaves,  and  on  top  of  that  and 
around  the  house  outside  we  piled  the  dry  earth  we  took  out  of 
the  excavation;  on  top  of  this  we  put  2x4  stringers  and  on  that 
boards  and  then  tar  paper  which  was  treated  to  a  heavy  coat  of 
coal  tar.  I  never  had  time  to  start  the  incubator  business,  but 
the  house  in  the  hill  is  dry  and  wholesome.  It  is  like  a  Texas 
dug  out,and  I  had  them  in  my  mind  when  we  built  it,  for  I've 
seen  them  when  in  the  Panhandle.  We  can  use  this  for  milk  in 
summer,  and  in  the  coldest  weather  our  potatoes  and  canned 
fruits  and  bulbs  and  plants  are  entirely  safe.  All  that  is  needed 
to  it  is  to  tar  the  roof  every  year  and  it  will  last  indefinitely. 

We  had  a  sun  house  with  glass  attached  for  a  chicken 
brooder,  but  we  did  not  use  it  except  for  a  lot  of  turkeys  that 
came  out  when  it  was  cold  in  the  Spring.  We  built  a  chicken 
house  in  an  adjoining  hill  and  the  eggs  do  not  freeze  in  it, 
though  it  is  not  so  close  as  the  other,  except  at  the  bottom. 
We  have  a  sun  house  attached  to  this,  where  the  early  hatched 
chickens  are  always  kept  warm  and  comfy.  Eggs  never  freeze 
in  this  house  and  the  chickens  love  it  in  winter.  I  am  going  to 
build  me  a  hospital  for  sick  or  ailing  things  on  my  farm  as  soon 
as  I  can  get  to  it.  It  shall  face  the  South  and  East  for  sun,  and 
I  shall  fix  for  a  fire  in  it,  if  I  wish  one.  Heat  is  life,  and  will  re- 
lieve many  an  ailing  creatures'  pains,  and  some  ones'  pocket 
and  feelings  too.  I  see  apples  and  potatoes  and  turnips  buried 
in  many  places  and  the  women  have  no  good  summer  place  for 
milk,  and  if  the  farmer  would  "busy  himself"  a  little,  he  could 
have  a  good  cellar  as  I  have  in  a  bank  or  hillside.  Ice  houses 
can  be  built  the  same  way. 


A  LOVE  STORY  211 

HUNTERS. 

'  'A  Southerly  wind  and  a  cloudly  sky  proclaims  it  a  hunting 
morning",  and  men  and  hounds  and  Lords  and  Ladies  are  off 
after  Mr.  Fox;  but  our  way  it  is  squirrels  and  rabbits  and  quail 
and  prairie  chicken,  woodchuck,  snipe,  and  coon  and  possum 
and  foxes  the  hunters  want.  And  they  wish  to  come  upon  our 
farms  to  shoot  and  trap  and  hunt  them. 

In  Illinois,  as  in  most  States  now,  the  game  laws  protect 
wild  things  except  at  stated  seasons,  but  we  farmers  have  to 
look  out  for  ourselves.  The  State  allows  boys  and  men  to  get  a 
license  to  hunt  by  paying  $1.  Hunters  outside  the  state  are 
now  subjected  to  such  heavy  license  fees  that  few  come  into 
the  state,  and  they  are  obliged  to  get  premission  to  hunt  on 
the  farmers'  land  and  pay  for  that,  or  risk  prosecution  as  tres- 
passers now.  As  a  rule  farmers  do  not  permit  hunters  on  their 
places;  stock  is  often  shot  and  killed  and  farm  poultry  is  fre- 
quently shot.  There  is  danger  to  the  farmer  too,  from  fire 
catching  and  taking  houses,  fences  and  stacks.  I  know  a  man 
who  was  shot  by  a  hunter  on  his  own  land;  another's  horse  was 
killed  in  the  pasture  field;  cattle  are  peppered  with  bird  shot. 
Sixteen  year  old  boys  are  not  safe  on  the  farms  as  hunters.  We 
feed  a  covey  of  quail  at  our  stacks  all  winter,  knowing  it  will 
pay  us  back  by  the  bugs  and  worms  it  eats  when  summer  comes, 
when  along  comes  a  hunter  and  destroys  our  feathered  friends 
at  one  volley. 

On  my  'farm  three  boys  came  from  a  little  village  near 
by  and  began  to  shoot;  some  of  the  women  were  berrying  and 
had  to  go  in,  the  whistle  and  the  hum  of  bullets  warned  them 
it  was  dangerous  to  stay.  I  went  out  and  saw  the  three  lads ; 
I  knew  their  dog  and  what  place  it  came  from,  but  did  not 
know  them  so  far  off;  but  they  saw  me  and  took  to  a  bottom 
corn  field  and  I  could  not  follow.  Often  they  came  so  near  my 
buildings  the  dogs  made  a  great  fuss  when  they  fired;  they 
seemed  to  understand  hunting  was  not  premitted,  I've  often 
gone  out  and  raised  a  wild  "halloo"  at  the  top  of  my  voice  and 
hunters  would  clear  out.  I  find  empty  shells  in  many  places, 
so  I  know  the  hunters  break  the  law,  for  I  have  made  notice  to 
trespassers  to  keep  off,  as  do  almost  all  the  farmers  now  a  days. 


212  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

We  need  a  law  saying  that  when  a  person  takes  out  a  license 
to  hunt,  he  shall  also  file  a  statement  where  he  is  going  to  hunt, 
otherwise  the  state  licenses  men  and  boys  to  steal,  for  it  is  a 
very  few  hunters  who  own  a  foot  of  ground.  This  would  stop 
the  hunting  business  by  persons  who  are  reckless,  and  the  kill- 
ing of  the  farmer's  stock  and  the  scaring  of  them  by  dogs  and 
shooting,  and  sometimes  the  killing  of  young  stock  by  hunters 
dogs.  No  farmer  would  have  to  keep  a  horse  saddled  to  chase 
the  hunters  off  his  premises  in  the  hunting  seasons  as  some 
must  do  to,  keep  them  from  infesting  their  property.  The  farm- 
ers, now  the  land  is  so  closely  settled  and  cleared,  need  and 
"ought  to  demand  a  law  of  this  sort  to  be  protected  from  hunt- 
ers. I  am  often  asked  to  let  hunters  come  upon  my  land  to  hunt 
rabbits.  I'd  like  to  get  rid  of  the  rabbits  but  a  hunter,  if  he 
sees  game,  will  shoot— he  can't  help  it;  so  I  say  "No"  and  tell 
why.  Automobilists  will  speed;  hunters  will  shoot;  the  farmer 
must  look  out  for  himself. 

Bobby  Barclay,  an  old  Irish  gentleman  of  Effingham  County, 
and  a  farmer,  came  to  see  me  one  day  and  asked  that  I  draw 
a  petition  to  the  Legislature  of  Illinois  asking  for  a  law  to  pro- 
tect quail  and  prairie  chickens.  "Dom  it,  Mis  Kepley"  said 
he,  "I  ain't  wit  yez  on  pro'bition,  but  I'm  wit  yez  on  the 
burrds".  I  was  at  that  time  head  of  an  Audubon  Society  for 
children.  He  spoke  of  the  quails.  "Ah"  said  he  "the  purty 
things,  I  never  et  one  of 'em  in  me  life.  I  hate  to  see 'em  killed". 
•  He  said  many  beautiful  things  of  the  quail,  and  he  obtained  the 
petition  and  got  two  hundred  names  to  it.  It  went  to  our  Sen- 
ator at  that  Session,  and  a  law  was  passed,  finally,  that  pro- 
tected prairie  chicken  and  quail  in  Illinois  for  five  years,  and 
after  that  limited  the  time  of  hunting  and  killing.  "Bobby" 
dearly  loved  the  "  OuldSod".  On  St.  Patrick's  day  he  proudly 
wore  a  spray  of  real  shamrock  on  his  coat;  and  he  loved  the 
"burrds,  the  purty  things",  and  could  not  bear  to  see  them 
killed,  and  he  never  ate  one  in  his  life. 

Bobby  Barclay  was  born  in  Ireland;  he  loved  the  land  of 
his  adoption,  and  the  land  of  the  shamrock  with  as  fervent  an 
affection  as  he  gave  the  birds.  He  was  a  farmer  too,  and  only 
left  the  farm  when  the  beloved  wife  of  his  youth  passed  away 
and  left  him  childless  at  the  cold  hearthstone  of  his  home.  His 


A  LOVE  STORY  213 

love  for  the  birds,  "the  purty  things",  grew  into  a  law  that 
protected  them,  and  their  friend  the  farmer.  I  think  Robert 
Barclay  never  hunted;  and  now  in  the  "home  of  the  soul",  he 
has  no  doubt  met  the  old  wife  he  loved,  and  knows  the  why  of 
many  things  his  earth  life  did  not  teach  him  and  that  his  love 
for  the  birds  opened  to  him. 


214  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

VIVISECTION. 

"The  merciful  man  is  merciful  to  his  beast". 

" Blessed  are  the  merciful,  for  they  shall  obtain  mercy". 

"Thou  shalt  not  kill". -The  Bible. 

' '  The  Gods  are  just  and  of  our  pleasant  vices  make  instru- 
ments to  plague  us.  The  dark  and  vicious  place  where  thee  he 
got,  cost  him  his  eyes".— King  Lear. 

Vivisection  is  the  name  given  to  surgical  experiments  upon 
dumb  animals,  and  upon  men,  in  the  name  of  Science.  The 
real  object  of  vivisection  is  to  seek  for  such  knowledge  as  may 
crop  up  out  of  experiments.  Vivisectionists  are  rot  agreed  upon 
the  results  of  experiments  they  make,  and  they  also  arrive  at 
conflicting  conclusions  with  their  cruel  experiments  upon  ani- 
mals. It  was  these  everlasting  contradictions  that  led  Sir 
Michael  Foster  to  say  in  1895  before  a  Pharmaceutical  Society 
in  Great  Britain,  " The  very  spirit  of  a  scientific  man  is  to  be- 
lieve his  brother  is  a  liar,  and  that  his  own  duty  is  to  prove  it". 

Dr.  Hughlings  Jackson  quoted  in  the  British  Medical 
Journal  Oct.  14th,  1911,  as  the  greatest  Scientific  Clinician,  never 
vivisected.  He  drew  his  conclusions  from  the  facts  the  Hos- 
pital wards  presented  him,  and  from  post  mortems. 

A  late  writer  Dr.  Alfred,  T.  Scholfield  says,  "Another  fac- 
tor which  obliterates  the  man  is  specialism.  It  is  easy,  as  one 
listens  to  a  paper  at  a  medical  society,  to  forget  that  man  as 
such  exists;  while  it  is  perfectly  obvious  that  whole  life  ap- 
parently centers  around  the  appendix,  or  the  posterio;  nares". 

To  the  Vivisectionists  the  dumb  beasts  exist  as  a  means 
for  experimentation.  Man  exists  as  a  subject  to  be  operated 
on.  Men  have  become  victims  of  the  Surgeons  who  vivisect. 
This  is  the  age  of  a  cruel,  wicked  wrongful  system  of  surgery, 
affecting  the  dumb  brutes  and  man  through  vivisection. 

There  is  a  legitimate  field  for  surgery,  but  it  is  not  the  field 
of  Vivisection. 

At  the  great  International  meeting  of  Surgeons  in  Bulgaria 
not  long  since,  three  sections  handled  Appendicitis.  The  first 
said  always  operate;  the  second  said  under  certain  conditions; 


A  LOVE  STORY  215 

the  third  said  not  at  all,  and  they  showed  the  highest  percen- 
tage of  recoveries.  Yet  the  Vivisectionists  go  on  cutting  for 
appendicitis  and  the  more  operations  the  more  appendicitis.  I 
read  of  a  man  who  had  a  lot  of  muslin  strips  on  which  he  had 
printed  in  indelible  ink  '  'My  appendix  has  been  cut  out".  These 
he  had  sewed  on  all  his  undershirts  over  the  region  of  the  ap- 
pendix. He  said  he  was  afraid  he  might  faint  and  before  he 
came  to  his  senses,  his  appendix  would  be  cut  out.  I  heard  of 
another  who  had  the  same  legend  tatooed  on  his  abdomen.  That 
was  before  laws  were  passed  requiring  surgeons  to  get  the  con- 
sent of  the  subject  before  an  operation. 

The  poor  dumb  creatures  are  tortured  in  all  sorts  of  horri- 
ble ways  with  the  specious  excuse  that  man  is  to  be  benefited 
thereby,  and  those  who  practice  this  black  art  call  themselves 
Surgeons.  So  fierce  is  their  desire  to  "operate"  that  laws  have 
had  to  be  passed  to  restain  them  from  operating  '  'willy  nilly' ' 
on  everybody  in  sight.  There  has  grown  up  an  idea  among 
young  men  who  desire  to  be  medics,  that  the  name  and  game, 
go  with  the  knife,  and  they  nearly  all  aspire  to  be  Surgeons. 
The  General  Practitioner  of  Medicine  bids  fair  to  disappear  and 
yet  he  is  the  man  we  need  most  of  all,  for  he  studies  man  as  a 
whole. 

Then  there  are  the  large  fees  attached  to  operations  on  the 
human  body.  Yes,  the  lust  of  gold  is  in  it,  as  well  as  the  lust 
for  fame;  as  a  skilful  operator. 

All  over  the  world  today  there  are  larbratories  and  ateliers, 
where  the  business  of  tormenting  the  dumb  domestic  animals, 
dogs,  cats,  rabbits,  guinea  pigs,  horses  and  monkeys,  is  prac- 
ticed by  vivisection,  and  Charity  Hospitals  where  the  helpless 
sick  poor  are,  unknowingly  to  themselves  operated  on.  Ani- 
mals and  men,  are  subjected  to  the  most  horrible  tortures  in  the 
name  of  Science.  No  man  or  women  can  be  well  if  his  organs 
are  -cut  out.  "There  is  too  much  interference  with  the  vital 
processes"  say  those  who  are  versed.  I  know  of  two  women 
from  whom  all  the  organs  common  to  a  woman  have  been  cut 
out.  They  are  virtually  invalids,  and  have  to  be  opened  now 
and  then  to  relieve  them;  the  intestines  sink  into  the  ca- 
vity of  the  abdomen  and  they  suffer  continually,  and  that  is  tne 
end  of  it,  till  death  takes  them.  We  know  too  that  cycatrixes, 


216  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

frequently  degenerate  into  cancers.  Do  the  Vivisectionists 
know  this?  If  not,  why?  Men  and  women  begin  to  demand 
the  murder  of  the  old,  the  insane,  the  afflicted  of  all  diseases 
called  incurable,  as  a  consequence  of  the  disregard  of  life  be- 
gotten by  vivisection. 

The  laity,  if  they  find  out  about  these  awful  tortures  of  the 
helpless,  are  placated  and  deceived  by  being  told  that  the  end 
and  object  of  it  all  is  to  save  human  life.  This  is  the  one  rock 
upon  which  the  Anti  Vivisectionists  run  in  their  thankless  ef- 
forts to  bring  the  law  of  God  and  man  to  bear  upon  this  terri- 
ble brutalizing  and  demoralizing  business  miscalled  Science. 
Many  good  people  consent  to  it,  because  they  believe  these 
wicked  experiments  do  save  life. 

If  a  great  Medical  man  calls  his  fellow  Medics  "liars",  the 
laity  outside  may  take  it  that  there  is  some  truth  in  the  state- 
ment. 

It  is  said  the  four  legged  animals,  are  not  like  the  two  leg- 
ged animal,  man;  the  natural  processes  in  the  man  and  brute 
are  not  alike;  so  at  the  best  the  Vivisectionists  offer  us  clumsy 
and  doubtful  results  from  their  experiments.  The  brains,  the 
hearts,  the  stomachs  of  animals,  are  not  like  those  of  man,  nor 
is  the  mind  of  the  man,  and  the  mind  of  the  brute  the  same; 
hence,  the  Vivisectionists  give  us  results  that  are  empirical. 
They  dispute  and  contradict  each  other  in  the  same  line  of  ex- 
periments. This  is  well  known  to  Vivisectionists.  They  now 
make  demands  continually  for  human  victims,  demanding  all 
convicts  shall  be  turned  over  to  them  for  experimentation  and 
whenever  they  have  a  chance,  they  operate  on  human  beings 
in  Charity  Hospitals  without  law.  In  the  Cook  County,  111. ,  Hos- 
pital not  long  ago  the  Superintendent  in  charge  made  complaint. 
He  said  operations  were  performed  on  men  and  women  when 
it  was  known  these  operations  would  kill  them;  before  the  breath 
was  out  of  some,  they  were  disemboweled  by  the  Vivisectors 
attached  to  the  hospital.  A  certain  German  Vivisectionist  of 
note  was  asked  why  he  performed  doubtful  and  dangerous  oper- 
ations on  babies  at  a  Charity  Maternity  Hospital,  and  why  he 
did  not  use  calves  for  his  experiments.  "Why",  said  he  "babies 
are  cheaper".  Of  a  Boston  Vivisector  of  note,  I  read  that  he 
severed  the  spinal  cords  of  fifty  babies  in  a  charity  hospital. 


A  LOVE  STORY  217 

I  do  not  know  what  reply  he  made  when  enquired  of  concern- 
ing it,  or  if  he  was  ever  enquired  of.  The  papers  and  magazines 
were  not  long  ago  full  of  the  work  of  a  gang  of  Vivi sectors  who 
inoculated  a  large  number  of  children  in  a  Charitable  Hospital 
in  Philadelphia  with  a  terrible  disease  of  the  eye.  When  they 
were  caught  they  began  to  lie,  and  said  it  was  the  fault  of  Sis- 
ters who  had  the  Home  in  charge.  Vivisecting  and  lying  go 
hand  in  hand  together,  it  seems.  Why  is  it  that  when  women 
are  run  into  Hospitals  for  appendicitis  that  the  Ovary  adjacent 
is  generally  clipped  out?  Why  are  they  told  by  the  Operators 
that  it  must  be  clipped  out?  Why?  A  wise  Physician  once 
told  me  "Thousands  of  women  are  unsexed  needlessly".  Well, 
who  told  them  they  had  to  be  unsexed?  The  Viviseetors  who 
operated  on  them.  Dr.  Alfred  Scholfield  denounces  this  prac- 
tice, and  says  "he  considers  it  as  bad  as  murder". 

I  knew  a  young  woman  who,  after  the  birth  of  her  first 
child,  was  complaining,  as  many  women  do.  She  was  informed 
it  was  absolutely  necessary  her  appendix  be  cut  out,  by  the 
Vivisector  called-  in;  and  then  the  ovary  adjacent  was  cut  out 
also  at  the  same  operation.  She  did  not  improve  in  health, 
and  then  she  was  told  the  womb  and  the  other  ovary  must  be 
removed,  and  they  were.  Still  her  health  was  bad.  I  saw  her 
one  day  and  said  "How  are  you"?  "Well,  no  better".  "Why, 
what's  the  matter  now"  ?  "Well,  lam  told  there  is  a  tumor 
growing  in  me,  and  it  must  be  cut  out".  "For  the  goodness 
sake"  said  I,  "Where  is  that  tumor"?  "Oh  in  my  bowels". 
"Well"  said  I,  "you  have  come  home  twice  alive.  Now  if  you 
go  again  you  will  come  home  in  a  box.  Go  see  another 
doctor",  and  she  did.  He  told  her  the  "tumor"  was  a  knot 
caused  by  the  muscles,  nerves  and  ligaments  which  had  been 
cut  from  the  organs  taken  from  her  body,  and  fastened  togeth- 
er. He  said  "You  do  not  need  an  operation,  and  in  my  opinion 
those  already  performed  on  you  were  unnecessary".  Why  was 
she  told  she  had  to  have  that  knot,  which  they  themselves 
made,  taken  from  her  bowels?  did  they  not  know,  or  did  they 
want  a  fee? 

I  knew  a  young  wife  who  was  informed  by  a  Vivisector 
that  her  child  could  not  be  born,  it  was  her  first.  Another  Phy- 
sician who  had  been  called  in  said  "I  can  deliver  you";  but  the 


218  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

Vivisector  was  chosen.  The  young  Mother  was  operated  on  by 
Caesarian  Section  and  died  later  in  the  most  horrible  agony;  the 
child  was  dead.  The  Vivisector  announced  the  child  could  not 
have  been  born,  as  it  weighed  twenty  pounds,  but  unknown  to 
him,  it  had  been  weighed  and  drew  the  scales  at  twelve  pounds. 
The  operator  thought  to  add  to  his  fame;  he  thought  he  could 
perform  that  capital  operation,  but  it  failed  and  two  dead  bod- 
ies in  a  box  was  the  conclusion.  Case  on  case  could  be  mul- 
tiplied; the  desire  for  the  fame,  the  desire  fora  fee  comes  in; 
and  Vivisectors  are  only  men,  and  also  men  who  have  been  cal- 
loused in  heart  and  mind  and  conscience  by  torturing  the  help- 
less brutes.  They  are  less  safe  to  trust  than  other  men.  I  do 
not  write  here  of  ignoramuses,  but  of  men  who  have  graduated 
from  schools  of  good  repute.  Young  Medics  see  the  fame  and 
the  game  go  with  the  knife  and  Vivisection,  and  the  Old  Gen- 
eral Practitioner  who  is  so  needed  and  desirable,  grows  scarce, 
and  is  likely  to  disappear  I  say  again. 

Science  in  Medicine  treats  the  man  as  a  machine,  in  a  sense, 
says  Scholfield.  The  Specialists  no  longer  take  him  as  a  whole. 
The  mind,  which  dominates  the  whole  man  and  his  healing,  is 
not  considered.  Science  has  about  made  an  end  of  medical 
Philosophy,  and  the  Surgeon  and  his  sharp  knives  and  other 
tools,  and  chloroform,  with  the  trained  nurse,  is  all  in  all. 

Dr.  Berdoe  F.  R.  S.,  Miss  Lind  of  Hageby,  the  Zoopholist, 
Anti  Vivisection  Journals  and  pamplets  here  and  in  Europe  and 
the  annals  of  the  Vivisectors  themselves  are  good  to  study. 
There  is  an  immense  amount  of  material  on  hand  to  study 
from. 

The  exhibits  of  tortured  animals  made  by  Anti  Vivisec- 
tionists  are  valuable  as  calling  attention  to  and  awakening  peo- 
ple to  the  horrors  of  this  terrible  thing  that  menaces  life  and 
humane  development  for  man  and  beast.  The  practice  of  Vi- 
visection, I  am  certain,  is  contrary  to  the  laws  of  God.  In  the 
first  place,  those  who  practice  Vivisection  murder  their  own 
hearts  and  consciences  when  they  torture  the  dumb  brutes. 
They  are  absolutely  callous  to  the  horrible  agonies  of  every  sort 
they  inflict  on  the  animals  and  on  men.  They  become  fasci- 
nated with  experimentation  and  they  want  the  fame  and  the 
gold  there  is  in  it.  They  .are  not  safe  to  trust  with  human  be- 


A  LOVE  STORY  219 

ings  after  they  have  completed  a  course  in  the  torture  cham- 
bers of  the  Laboratory.  They  lose  the  power  to  tell  the  truth; 
they  become  confined  liars,  as  well  as  self  deceivers;  to  instance: 
I  knew  a  woman  who  was  condemned  to  the  knife,  her  husband 
was  led  to  believe  she  could  be  cured;  indeed,  that  was  the 
reason  he  consented  to  the  operation;  he  spent  time  and  money 
galore.  The  woman  suffered  the  torments  of  the  Inferno. 
The  surgeon  who  operated  told  others  at  once,  that  she  would 
die  of  a  recurrence  of  the  disease,  and  she  did;  and  he  knew 
all  this  before  he  operated.  He  was  a  professed  Christian  man 
and  had  gone  to  foreign  lands  to  perfect  himself  by  the  prac- 
tice of  vivisection  for  operations  on  human  beings.  He  was  a 
liar  and  a  thief  for  he  did  not,  and  could  not,  give  value  received, 
and  he  knew  it.  He  was  not  safe  to  trust.  He  gulled  every- 
body in  the  case;  Yet  who  such  cockspurs,  or  so  jealous  of  honor 
as  the  surgeons? 

I  knew  a  young  woman  who  was  rushed  to  a  Hospital  and 
was  prepared  for,  and  about  to  be  carried  to  the  operating  table, 
for  appendicitis.  Her  father  who  was  away  returned,  unex- 
pectedly and  went  quickly  to  the  Hospital.  He  went  to  the 
room  where  his  daughter  lay  ready  to  be  carried  to  the  Vivisec- 
tor.  Taking  her  by  the  arm,  he  gave  her  a  shake  and  said, 
"Get  up  and  go  home  at  once".  She  obeyed  him.  She  is  in 
possession  of  her  appendix  yet,  and  has  been  at  work  ever  since. 

I  knew  of  another  who  was  told  she  had  a  floating  kidney, 
and  she  was  on  the  operating  table  when  her  Mother  sent  a 
friend  to  be  a  witness  of  the  operation.  The  friend  was  re- 
fused admittance.  She  made  a  lot  of  threats  and  much  noise. 
The  girl  was  taken  off  the  operating  table  finally  and  unban- 
daged,  and  she  also  went  to  work  at  once,  and  I  suppose  her 
kidney  still  floats,  as  she  is  well. 

The  Vivisector,  when  he  is  finished,  has  as  little  mercy  on 
brutes  and  men,  as  a  tiger  has  when  his  teeth  are  sunk  in  a 
lamb.  Many  surgeons  now  demand  to  cut  men  and  women 
open  to  see  if  they  need  to  be  operated  on,  and  they  do  most 
senseless  things,  and  wicked  and  useless  things  too,  in  the  name 
of  surgery.  There  is  growing  a  reckless  disregard  of  human 
life  in  this  exploitation  of  the  knife,  via  vivisection.  When  a 
patient  dies  under  the  knife  the  verdict  given  is  "Oh,  he  would 


220  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

have  died  anyway,  it  was  only  a  question  of  time,  it  was  the 
last  thing  to  be  done",  etc.  The  young  medics  are  fascinated 
and  want  to  operate,  and  condone  operations.  A  demand  is 
made  that  the  appendix  of  every  new  born  babe  be  cut  out. 
These  Vivisectionists  think  they  know  more  than  God  or  Evo- 
lution. Vivisection  has  been  practiced  in  the  public  schools,  in 
biological  classes,  and  we  are  obliged  to  ask  laws  to  restrict  these 
murderous  practices  and  to  protect  the  children  in  our  schools 
from  these  awful  doctrines. 

When  poor  women  are  obliged  to  have  their  babi  es  at  Ma- 
ternity Hospitals,  by  what  right  or  reason  are  they  inoculated 
with  the  sex  diseases,  which  are  incurable  and  which  the  mother 
becomes  a  carrier  of,  not  only  to  her  own  child  and  children 
and  family  but  to  others;  and  why  should  babies  be  inoculated 
with  all  sorts  of  loathesome  diseases  and  used  for  dangerous 
and  doubtful  experiments  unknowing  to  their  parents  and  friends; 
and  why  are  many  inoculated  with  diseases  that  it  is  known 
will  kill  them?  It  is  a  terrible  condition  of  things!  Vivisec- 
tion is  the  fertile  mother  of  evil  things;  to  instance:  We  hold 
human  life  cheap  because  of  the  murder  of  animals  and  men  by 
those  who  claim  to  be  Scientists  (Vivisectionists).  We  have 
those  who  demand  the  murder  of  the  old  sick,  insane,  imbecile. 
The  young  men  and  boys  play  games  and  kill  each  other,  and 
we  still  demand  those  games.  People  go  to  the  Auto  races  and 
Aviation  meets,  to  get  "thrills  at  the  kill  of  the  machines"— so 
says  a  wise  man. 

No,  the  Vivisectionist  is  an  unsafe  man.  He  breaks  God's 
laws  until  he  becomes  a  Scientific  Liar  and  commits  murder  of- 
ten. He  is  not  safe  to  trust  with  human  or  brute  subjects.  A 
young  Medic  with  whom  I  once  discoursed  said,  '  'What  would 
you  do  if  you  had  to  be  operated  on"?  "Why"  said  I,  "I'd  just 
die  a  natural  death".  I'd  rather  die,  as  to  have  my  life,  if  a 
thousand  poor  brutes  had  to  be  tormented  for  me.  I'd  feel  I 
had  a  right  to  face  my  Heavenly  Father  if  I  cared  as  much  for 
the  poor  brutes  as  He  says  He  cares  for  the  sparrow,  and  I 
think  his  face  would  be  turned  away  from  me  if  I  saved  my  life 
by  such  horrible  sacrifices.  He  has  made  it  possible  for  men 
to  be  well  if  they  will.  The  Pagans  practiced  Vivisection  on 
living  men  and  women.  Vivisection  is  a  revival  of  Paganism 


A  LOVE  STORY  221 

in  our  midst.  As  Paganism  perished,  so  will  vivisection,  ulti- 
mately. It  is  coming;  what  is  wrong  always  perishes  in  due 
season. 

Granted  the  Vivisectionists  are  right,  and  the  human  race 
accepts  their  doctrines.  We  shall  by  then  have  degenerated 
into  a  lot  of  devils,  and  we  shall  kill  each  other,  if  the  other, 
is  in  the  way  of  what  we  want,  like  the  Indian'and  the  Canni- 
bal. Everybody  must  own  it's  a  development  backwards,  and 
not  forwards,  and  it's  not  worth  while  that  we  exist  at  all  if 
we  shall  come  to  an  end  like  this. 

It  would  be  well  for  Vivisectionists  to  turn  the  leaves  of 
the  old  books,  and  read  a  few  items  that  men  as  Doctors,  once 
taught  and  believed  and  did  in  medicine,  to  "save  human  life". 
Heavy  drugging  turned  typhoid  fever  into  the  horrible  black 
typhus  which  has  now  disappeared,  with  the  cessation  of  drug- 
ging. The  sick  were  calomelized  till  their  teeth  dropped  out 
and  they  stank.  The  Physician  in  ordinary  to  an  English 
King  recommended  the  following  remedies  for  the  sick:  '  'Take 
the  flesh  of  a  dead  young  man,  treat  it  with  spirits  of  wine  and 
salt,  dry  it  well,  triturate  it  thoroughly,  put  it  in  a  close  glass 
jar,  and  then  give  it  as  a  sovereign  remedy  in  "Pestilence,  Le- 
prosy, Palsie  and  Gout".  In  the  month  of  July  catch  fat  over- 
grown toads,  "reduce,  calcine,  and  distill  their  bodies",  then 
disolve  the  residue  in  orange  water  or  treacle;  to  be  used  inter- 
nally and  externally  for  "cancer,  and  all  sorts  of  poison". 
These  recipes  are  taken  from  the  book  of  the  Physician  in  ordi- 
nary to  the  English  King  in  1672  and  the  book  is  dedicated  to 
the  Duke  of  Buckingham.  Also,  it  was  declared  by  Medics  of 
those  days  that  "roses  growing  on  a  manure  pile  were  espe- 
cially efficacious  for  wounds,"  and  the  earth  taken  "from  a 
human  skull,  and  plants  which  grow  on  graves,  had  a  special 
virtue  for  healing  diseases".  The  records  of  medicine  the 
world  over  were  no  better.  The  credulous  nature  of  the  physi- 
cians who  concocted  and  gave  these  remedies  is  matched  only 
in  a  more  horrible  way  by  the  Vivisectionists  with  their  tor- 
ments of  the  poor  brutes  and  of  human  beings  by  their  serums 
and  knives.  Sometimes  I  wonder  if  the  Vivisectionists,  like 
Pasteur,  all  suffer  from  brain  lesions,  as  Grasset  said  Pasteur 
did.  I  must  confess  it  seems  probable  to  me.  The  bunglers 


222  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

who  vivisect  the  animals  and  degrade  themselves  and  injure 
mankind,  might,  it  seems,  study  the  old  annals  of  a  once  pop- 
ular system  of  medicine,  then  study  the  thoughts  of  advanced 
thinkers,  their  own  trade  of  Vivisection,  and  move  to  higher 
ground,  and  cease  torturing  men  and  animals. 

The  dog,  the  rabbit,  the  cat,  and  every  other  sort  of  dumb 
creatures  that  lives  and  breathes  and  depend  on  man  as  friends 
and  helpers  are  tortured  by  the  Vivisectionists;  thousands  and 
thousands  of  them;  the  earth  is  full  of  their  pitiful  cries  for 
help.  Especially  it  is  true  that  those  devoted  friends  of  ours 
the"dog  and  cat,  are  tormented  and  tortured  by  the  Vivisection- 
ists. Why  is  it  the  dog  loves  man  and  follows  him  and  serves 
him  as  he  does?  When  every  human  soul  forsakes  a  poor,  de- 
graded wretch,  his  dog,  half  starved  maybe,  looks  at  his  mas- 
ter with  affection  and  starves  with  him,  and  kisses  his  hand. 
And  so  of  the  cat  that  rids  our  houses  of  vermin,  destroys  the 
rats  that  are  said  to  carry  the  bubonic  plague,  and  sings  its  grate- 
ful song  of  thanks  for  the  most  meagre  favor  and  love  to  the  one 
who  owns  it.  We  cannot  vivisect,  or  allow  it  then,  without  dam- 
aging our  own  psychical  or  spiritual  natures  and  breaking  the 
laws  of  God. 

Dr.  A.  T.  Scholfield,  who  reviews  the  regular  schools  of 
medicine,  the  "Quacks",  Christian  Science,  Faith  Healing, 
mind  cures  and  etc. ,  asserts  that  many  organic,  as  well  as  func- 
tional diseases  are  caused  by  the  mind.  He  instances  spasms, 
convulsions,  paralysis,  heart  disease,  apoplexy,  asthma,  jaun- 
dice, gastralgia,  liver  disease,  dyspepsia,  vomiting,  purging, 
faecal  vomiting,  kidney  diseases,  cancer,  cholera,  and  other  mal- 
adies, and  declares  that  they  are  cureable,  by,  the  force  of  the 
mind.  He  also  asserts  especially,  epidemic  diseases  are  caused 
by  the  mind  and  cured  by  the  mind.  Paul  Du  Bois  of  Berne,  in 
his  Psychic  Cure  of  Nervous  Diseases,  tells  of  the  marvellous 
power  of  mind  over  matter.  I  have  always  heard  that  most 
young  Doctors  think  they  had  each  disease  as  they  studied  it. 
Small  Pox  broke  out  in  a  Chinese  City,  I  read  once.  The  Ruler 
issued  a  proclamation  that  there  was  no  Small  Pox,  and  if  any 
one  got  it  he  would  beheaded.  There  was  no  Small  Pox  after 
that  Proclamation.  The  Surgeon  infects  the  public  by  Sugges- 
tion. The  Surgeon  infects  himself  by  auto-suggestion. 


A  LOVE  STORY  223 

% 

In  America  we  run  mad  dog  scares  every  year  and  urge 
all  who  get  dog  bit  to  go  to  Pasteur  Institutes  for  treatment 
by  rabies  serum.  And  yet,  Pasteur  had  a  brain  lesion  before 
he  invented  his  serum.  In  England  they  got  .rid  of  mad  dogs 
and  hydrophobia  by  abolishing  Pasteur  Institutes  by  law.  It  is 
known  that  some  people  developed  rabies  by  being  inoculated 
with  Pasteur's  rabies  serum.  We  ought,  like  England,  to  abol- 
ish Pasteur  laboratories  and  Institutes,  and  Vivisection  experi- 
ments everywhere  to  cure  disease.  Appendicitis  would  soon  be 
forgotten  if  there  were  no  vivisectionists.  The  Denver  dog 
catcher  who  was  bitten  by  dogs  two  thousand  times  ought  to  be 
good  authority,  as  well  as  the  dog  doctors  who  show  their  arms 
covered  with  the  scars  of  dog  bites,  and  who  jeer  at  rabies,  to- 
gether with  other  dog  bit  dog  specialist.  They  are  surely  not  all 
immune. 

We  of  the  farms  live  too  near  our  dogs  and  cats  and  horses 
to  tolerate  the  idea  of  Vivisection;  in  a  rude  way  too,  the  most 
of  us  reject  and  denounce  the  doctrine.  We  are  too  crude  in 
the  eyes  of  the  elect,  but  we  live  nearer  Nature  and  the  Lord 
of  all  things,  and  we  spue  it  out. 

Vivisection  is  a  species  of  diabolism.  It  degrades  and  kills 
the  hearts  and  consciences  of  those  who  practice  it,  and  it  leads 
to  murderous  practices  among  men  everywhere,  and  degener- 
ation of  every  sort  in  mind  and  spirit,  among  Vivisectionists 
and  the  laity.  If  we  allow  such  murderous  practices  we  our- 
selves begin  to  think  that  way,  and  develop  devilward,  not 
Godward. 

There  will  come  a  day  when  Vivisection  must  end,  and 
we  shall  think  of  its  horrors  and  mistakes  with  pain  and  shame. 


224  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

NURSES  AND  NUNS. 

In  these  days  when  we  are  mad  on  vivisection,  and  when 
surgical  operations  for  experiment  and  exploitation  are  the 
vogue,  the  Surgeons  get  great  names  and  large  fees.  The  good 
old  fashioned,  faithful  Practitioner  is  likely  to  disappear  because 
this  surgical  craze,  with  its  resultant  fame  and  gain,  has  in- 
fected the  'young  medics.  The  whole  system  would  collapse 
utterly  were  it  not  for  the  women  who,  as  nurses,  after  the 
surgeons  have  mutilated  and  cut  and  experimented,  step  in  to 
take  the  poor  remnant  of  flesh  and  life  that  is  left,  and  care  for 
it  and  nurture  it,  and  fetch  it  through  to  living  if  it  is  possible.  I 
have  seen  the  backs  of  nurses  bent,  from  hanging  day  and  night 
over  patients  who  shrieked  in  agony  from  their  sufferings;  and 
the  nurses'  life  is  a  short  one  usually.  Not  one  of  these  poor 
victims  of  the  knife  could  live  were  it  not  for  the  faithful 
women  who  bathe  and  bind,  and  watch  and  wait  with  every 
sense  alert,  the  little  life  left  by  the  surgeon's  knife.  Vivisection, 
modern  surgery  so  called,  would  end  if  the  women  nurses  sai  d 
the  word  and  refused  to  nurse  such  cases. 

It  is  a  sad  commentary  on  the  arrogance  of  the  surgeons. 
Men  as  a  class  will  not,  and  cannot  nurse.  They  cannot  be 
trusted,  and  they  have  not  the  tender  sympathy,  the  gentle 
hands,  the  good  hearts  and  the  good  consciences  the  powerful 
minds  that  makes  women  nurses  worth  all.  The  Surgeon  gets 
the  big  fee  and  the  big  name.  The  woman— she  is  the  means 
of  the  patient's  salvation,  but  she  is  a  nurse,  and  has  hardly  a 
name,  Yet  she  holds  the  great  issues  of  the  case  in  her  hands 
—life  and  death.  If  she  were  careless  or  failed  in  any  particu- 
lar, the  patient  must  die,  The  nurses  training  is  of  the  most 
rigid;  their  pay  is  poor,  or  nothing  for  a  long  time.  They  are 
often  hired  out  at  big  wages  during  their  novitiate,  and  many 
break  down  in  health;  and  for  years  they  are  granted  a  pittance 
for  their  hard  work.  They  are  often  worked  so  unmercifully 
and  out  of  reason,  that  the  health  of  some  is  permanently  im- 
paired. They  are  obliged  to  do  the  most  disgusting  tasks,  yet 
many  hold  on  and  save  the  lives  of  the  Surgeons  victims. 

Not  a  patient  operated  on  could  recover  if  it  were  not  for 
the  women  nurses  who  nurse.  The  Surgeon  cuts  and  kills,  the 


A  LOVE  STORY  225 

Nurses  nurture  and  save  life.  Yet  who  hears  of  the  great 
nurse  or  nurses  who  do  so  much?  Laudation  goes  to  those  who 
cut  and  kill;  the  nurse  is  considered  the  servant  of  the  Surgeon 
and  she  is  expected  to  be  duly  humble.  He  gets  the  big  pay; 
she,  the  little.  Yet  it  is  she  who  saves  the  patient  after  all.  If 
nurses  were  trained  to  care  for  the  sick,  the  dangerous  opera- 
tions would  cease  largely,  they  would  have  to,  and  surgery 
would  stay  in  its  legitimate  field  instead  of  exploiting  itself  at 
the  expense  of  human  life.  When  men  called  Surgeons  demand 
the  right  to  cut  into  men  and  women  to  see  what  ails  them,  a 
halt  ought  to  be  called,  and  nurses  be  called  to  care  for  the  sick  t 
to  heal  them,  instead  of  becoming  life  savers  at  surgical  oper- 
ations. How  women  can  consent  to  help  at  a  business  that  de- 
mands terrible  torments  of  the  dumb  animals,  and  that  practic- 
es it  on  human  beings  when  possible,  is  a  problem  to  me.  No 
class  of  women  is  so  in  sympathy  with  Surgeons,  as  the  women 
nurses  they  have  been  trained  for  their  work.  They  are  infected 
with  the  doctrine  that  vivisection  saves  life.  The  Nurses  and 
Nuns  can  stop  vivisection,  who  care  for  the  surgeon's  subjects; 
they  can  stop  the  wholesale  practice  of  mutilating  human  beings. 
They  need  to  be  shown  the  horrors  and  the  evils  in  every  surgical 
case,  for  in  their  hands  are  the  issues  of  life  and  death,  and 
not  in  the  hands  of  the  Surgeon. 


226  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

THE  MIDWIFE  AND  THE  MAN. 

'  'Dinah  Shadd  was  away  attending  to  a  major's  lady,  who 
preferred  Dinah  without  a  diploma  to  anybody  else  with  a  hund- 
red."—Kipling. 

The  Midwife  was  an  Institution  once.  She  it  was  who, 
among  savages,  and  ancient  peoples,  ushered  and  still  ushers 
the  child  into  life.  Among  Oriental  people  she  is  the  only  ac- 
coucher,  as  she  is  today  among  the  humbler  peoples  of  the  world. 
She  was  the  faithful  and  safe  attendant  of  the  pioneer  women 
of  America,  and  among  our  emigrant  people  heretofore  and  now: 
and  it  is  only  of  late,  she  has  been  crowded  out.  She  was  a 
person  of  importance  and  honorable,  and  played  many  a  large 
part  in  the  field  of  life.  When  the  Egyptian  King  decreed 
death  to  all  male  children  of  the  Israelites,  and  called  the  Mid- 
wives  of  this  ancient  people  before  him,  and  ordered  them  to  de- 
stroy all  the  male  children  at  birth,  they  cheerfully  and  instant- 
ly lied,  saying  the  Israelitish  women  did  not^need  their  services. 
They  risked  death  by  so  doing,  but  thus  saved  the  lives  of  the 
male  issue  of  their  people,  and  made  it  possible  for  Moses  to 
come  to  the  delivery  of  the  Israelites  from  Egypt.  The  major 
part  of  the  peoples  of  the  earth  who  have  been  born  from  the 
beginning  of  time,  until  within  the  past  fifty  or  seventy-five 
years,  have  been  ushered  into  the  world  at  the  hands  of  the 
Midwives.  These  honorable  women  were  without  exception,  no 
doubt  women  who  had  homes  and  children  of  their  own;  they 
knew  all  about  child  bearing  by  personal  experience.  That  they 
were  a  success  is  evidenced  by  the  fact,  that  with  the  ending  of 
their  vocation  among  civilized  and  cultured  people  so  called, 
the  birth  rate  begins  to  decline  and  women  became  more'and  more 
chronic  invalids,  thousands  of  them,  and  go  more  and  more  into 
the  Surgeon's  hands  after  childbirth  for  operations,  and  also  for 
diseases  consequent.  I  have  heard  Midwives  who  had  attained 
great  age  say  they  had  never  lost  a  child,  of  the  hundreds  they 
brought  into  life,  and  it  was  a  rare  thing  for  a  woman  to  perish 
at  childbirth,  with  them.  It  seems  the  natural  way  for  a 
woman  to  be  attended  in  her  travail  by  a  woman.  But  the 
Midwife  finally  ran  up  against  a  man,  and  this  man  had  a  bal- 


A  LOVE  STORY  227 

lot  and  went  to  legislatures,  and  had  laws  passed  which  finally 
robbed  the  woman  who  had  no  ballot,  of  her  natural  attendant 
at  the  birth  hour,  and  the  Midwife  has  virtually  passed,  in  this 
Country,  except  in  cases  where  some  woman  in  a  family  or  in  a 
neighborhood  is  on  hand,  before  a  Doctor  can  get  in,  and  all  is  over 
and  the  Mother  and  babe  are  safe  and  comfortable,  and  nobody 
bothers,  and  a  gift  is  all  the  accouchise  gets  in  return;  she  dares 
not  charge  a  fee;  or  she  will  be  prosecuted  by  a  man  made  law. 
Yes,  the  Midwife  ran  up  against  a  man.  He  is  called  "Doctor" 
and  she  is  out,  and  so  is  the  woman  who  bears  children. 

In  Illinois  it  was  not  until  the  year  1871-72  that  women 
were  allowed  to  practice  the  learned  professions  and  this  in- 
cluded women  Doctors.  The  Midwife  was  not  supposed  to  be- 
long to  the  learned  professions.  Her  pet  name  of  "Granny" 
signified  as  much. 

With  the  passing  of  the  Midwife  came  the  era  of  "female 
diseases"  and  surgical  operations  for  injuries,  lacerations,  etc, 
at  the  birth  hour.  The  Theory  of  quick  deliveries  now  came 
into  vogue  by  man  accouchers;  many  of  them  had  no  time  to 
""fool  away"  on  the  slow  process  of  a  woman  in  labor,  and  the 
bringing  of  the  child  into  the  world  by  forceps  and  chloroform 
became  the  fashion;  and  still  born  children  and  women  whose  im- 
perative need  is  the  surgeon,  arrived  with  this  Theory,  and  at 
present  the  outlook  is  serious.  Childbirth,  invested  with  all 
these  horrors,  and  the  chance  of  death  at  the  end,  has  so 
alarmed  women  that  the  birth  rate  is  growing  beautifully  less, 
to  the  scandal  of  some  agitated  gentleman  and  the  horror  of  oth- 
ers. The  large  fees  that  accompany  the  birth  of  many  child- 
ren, alarm  would-be  fathers,  as  well  as  the  horrors  of  the  birth 
chamber.  Strange  to  say,  the  germ  diseases  did  not  thrive  so 
well  under  the  care  of  the  "grannys"  who  presided  at  the  ad- 
vent of  the  child,  as  they  do  now  a  days  with  all  the  antiseptics 
and  science,  and  trained  nurses,  etc.,  at  hand.  The  Medical 
profession  was  the  most  devout  opponent  of  women  medics  or 
doctors,  as  well  as  of  midwives,  The  learned  woman,  after 
every  effort  made  to  prevent  her,  and  in  spite  of  opposition  and 
insults  by  some  Professors  and  students  in  some  Medical 
Schools,  has  at  last  gained  and  holds  her  ground,  but  she  is  in  a 
minority;  but  the  Midwife,  when  the  Medical  Profession  has  got 


228  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

foothold,  is  pushed  off  the  earth,  and  is  now  only  found  where 
women  bring  forth  their  young  normally  and  plentifully,  among 
the  common  people  and  foreigners,  as  in  the  old  days.  The 
Mormons  have  a  school  of  Midwifery  and  their  women  are  at- 
tended by  the  Midwife  as  of  yore,  and  the  population  rapidly  in- 
creases, and  their  women  do  not  need  the  care  of  surgeons  as 
the  women  of  the  polite,  refined  (?)  world  do. 

The  new  Doctor  has  no  time  to  wait  for  natural  births  as  a 
rule,  hence  chloroform,  and  the  foreceps,  and  the  consequent 
need  of  surgical  operations.  Men  are  accountable  for  the  birth 
of  children  as  well  as  women.  Alas,  that  the  Midwife  should 
be  pushed  off  the  stage  of  action  by  a  man. 


A  LOVE  STORY  229 

THE  HIGHEST  ALTITUDE. 

One  who  measures  himself  by  himself  has  a  poor  model.  One 
who  measures  himself  or  herself  by  others,  has  a  better  meas- 
ure, but  the  one  great  mountain  top  for  all  to  reach,  and 
measure  up  is  God.  That  is  the  Absolute  Perfection  we  need 
to  reach  after.  In  that  Ideal  is  contained  the  best,  the  highest, 
the  sweetest  one  can  concieve  of.  While  we  cannot  yet  expect 
to  attain  this  high  altitude  fully,  we  can  rise  to  our  best,  and 
we  can  know  what  Paul  means  when  he  says,  '  'Now  are  we 
Sons  of  God".  In  an  ecstacy  he  exclaims,  "We  shall  judge 
Angels";  just  as  old  David  sang  long  before,  "God  made  man 
a  little  lower  than  the  Angels,  crowned  him  with  glory  and 
honor,  and  put  all  things  under  his  feet."  Jesus  knew  it  all 
and  he  said,  "I  and  my  Father  are  one"  and  he  admonished  his 
disciples  to  be  at  one  with  God  even  as  he  was.  "-I  go  to  my 
Father  and  your  Father".  In  Jesus  we  see  the  God  likeness 
as  it  ought  to  be  seen  in  every  man  and  woman.  Jesus  shows 
us  the  possibility  of  this  high  altitude  for  man,  and  its  ex- 
emplification in  himself,  and  also  makes  plain  the  means  where- 
by we  can  attain  it. 

Once  upon  a  time  in  Effingham  County  I  stirred  up  our 
Board  of  Supervisors  on  account  of  the  wretchedness  of  our 
Poor  House,  and  the  miserable  condition  of  its  inmates.  I 
found  by  this  task  that  the  system  of  salvation,  according  to 
Jesus,  hinges  upon  the  care  of  the  poor  and  wretched  in  jails, 
prisons,  poor-houses  and  hospitals;  and  the  Last  Judgement  we 
have  heard  so  much  about  hangs  upon  the  care  we  take  of,  and 
the  love  we  feel  for,  those  unhappy  and  wretched  ones;  to  stoop 
to  them,  lifts  up  the  God  ideal  in  us  and  makes  us  like  unto  the 
Absolute  Perfection  we  call  by  the  name  of  God.  We  do  not 
need  a  man-made  Creed. 

I  would  that  some  painter  would  take  for  his  theme — 
'  'When  the  Son  of  Man  shall  come  in  all  his  glory  and  all  the 
holy  Angels  with  him,  and  judge  men,  each  one  shall  be  tried 
by  his  treatment  of  the  debased  and  suffering  of  earth". 

God  makes  it  easy  for  us  to  love  and  serve  him;  the  means 
is  at  hand,  and  with  the  All  Perfect,  as  our  model  we  shall  rise 
Godward  in  the  scale  of  being.  Jesus  went  barefoot.  He  said 


230  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

the  foxes  had  holes,  and  the  birds  their  nests,  but  He  had  no 
place  to  lay  his  head.  But  he  is  God  personified  to  us,  for  we 
know  nothing  higher  then  he  taught  us.  He  rose  to  the  heights 
of  God;  he  led  men  to  the  same  great  altitude  of  perfection. 
He  is  the  beautiful  Exemplar  of  God  to  man,  and  the  wretched 
and  debased  he  loved  and  ministered  to,  and  we  love  and  follow 
him  and  measure  to  the  God  likeness  in  Him. 

Not  myself,  not  another  be  my  measure  of  the  Highest 
Altitude.  Let  us  follow  God  as  Jesus  did,  and  the  God  likeness 
must  grow  in  men;  the  strong  will  no  longer  tempt  and  destroy 
the  weak. 

"For  life  shall  on  and  upward  go 

The  eternal  steps  of  progress  beat 

To  that  great  anthem  strong  and  slow 

Which  God  repeats".  -Whittier. 


A  LOVE  STORY  231 

THE  HOLY  CHILD. 


TEMPLE  CHILDREN. 

'  'Holy  Mary  Mother  of  God,  Blessed  be  the  Fruit  of  Thy 
Womb— Jesus." 

'  'Blessed  art  Thou  among  Women,  and  blessed  is  the  Fruit 
of  Thy  Womb— Jesus."  —  The  Hail  Mary. 

"And  the  Angel  answered  and  said  unto  her— The  Holy 
Ghost  shall  come  upon  Thee.  The  power  of  the  highest  shall  over- 
shadow thee,  and  therefore  also,  that  Holy  thing  which  shall 
be  born  of  thee  shall  be  called  the  Son  of  God".  — The  Bible 
(Luke  2) 

"And  yet  we  have  seen  she,  (the  Queen  Bee)  is  not  sterile, 
Virgin  though  she  be.  Then  confronts  us  here  the  great  mystery 
or  precaution  of  Nature;  the  Virgin  Bee  is  still  able  to  lay. 
When  we  consider  these  problems,  more  especially  those  of  genera- 
tion, the  marvellous  and  the  unexpected  confront  us". —Maeter- 
linck. 

Man  was  born  of  the  earth  according  to  some  scientists. 
Women  is  a  higher  creation  as  she  was  born  of  man  they  say. 
She  ought  in  the  nature  of  things  have  been  wiser  than  he,  and 
she  truly  was  as  the  history  of  the  first  woman.  Eve,  demon- 
strates. 

There  is  one  thing  about  which  the  human  race  revolves, 
upon  which  it  must  depend— The  Child. 

One  child  only  of  the  human  race  is  called  Holy.  The  re- 
mainder of  the  little  children  of  the  earth  from  the  beginning 
down  to  now,  have  been  declared  Unholy  by  the  Church.  One 
Church  teaches  that  unless  the  hand  of  a  man  or  woman  makes 


232 


A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


the  sign  of  the  cross  upon  the  youngest  infant,  and  says  some 
words  prescribed  by  the  Church,  the  soul  of  that  little  child 
wanders  forever  in  an  endless  limbo,  and  can  never  see  the  face 
of  God.  Another  taught  '  'there  are  infants  in  hell  from  whence 
they  can  never  escape. ' '  Jesus  taught  '  'Even  so,  it  is  not  the 
will  of  your  heavenly  Father  that  one  of  these  little  ones  should 
perish",  and  "Their  Angels  do  always  see  the  face  of  my  Father 
which  is  in  Heaven",  and  he  blessed  the  children  as  their 
mothers  brought  them  to  him,  saying,  '  'Of  such  is  the  King- 
dom of  Heaven,  and,  except  ye  repent  and  become  as  little  child- 
ren ye  shall  never  see  the  face  of  my  Father  which  is  in  Heaven" 
But,  there  is  no  Holy  child  on  earth  now,  so  far  as  we  are  taught. 

Thanks  to  the  teachings 
of  the  Theologians  who  have 
wasted  much  time  on  dogmas 
'  'taking  tithes  of  mint,  anise 
and  cumin,  and  neglecting 
the  weightier  matters  of  the 
law"— the  child  declared 
accursed  at  birth  has  had  to 
be  purified;  the  mother  is 
declared  unclean  because  of 
its  birth  and  both  are  ob- 
liged to  be  cleansed  by  the 
power  of  the  Church.  There 

is  one  Holy  Child,  we  are  taught  and  all  the  earth  is  commanded 
to  bow  at  its  feet  and  worship;  but  those  other  little  children 
are  accursed,  and  only  can  be  saved  from  the  sins  of  their  an- 
cestors and  their  own  sins,  by  great  and  tremendous  travail  with 
the  Theologian's  creeds,  and  themselves.  When  Madam  Roland 
went  to  the  guillotin,  she  left  her  parting  message  to  the  world; 
as  she  went  up  the  steps  to  the  scaffold;  she  looked  upward  and 
said,  "Oh  Liberty,  what  crimes  are  committed  in  thy  name". 
One  may  look  to-day  at  the  little  child  and,  looking  upward, 
say  "Oh  God,  what  crimes  are  committed  against  the  little  child- 
ren in  Thy  name". 

THE   WOMAN  WHO   CONCEIVES  A  CHILD   IS  AS    MUCH    OVER- 
SHADOWED BY  THE  HOLY  GHOST  AS  MARY  WAS.    THE  FRUIT  OF 


TEMPLE   CHILDREN. 


A  LOVE  STORY  233 

HER  WOMB  IS  HOLY,  AND  AS  MUCH  A  "SON  OF  GOD"  AS  MARY'S 
CHILD. 

I  often  go  to  the  Catholic  Church  and  I  hear  the  congrega- 
tion respond  again  and  again  to  the  Celebrant— "Holy  Mary, 
Mother  of  God,  blessed  be  the  fruit  of  thy  womb— Jesus".  What 
sins  have  been  committed  against  the  womb,  the  holy  matrix 
of  the  human  race!  It  is  declared  accursed  by  theologues  and 
its  fruit  accursed  also.  Men  have  striven  to  protect  the  purity 
of  birth  and  blood  in  high  places,  by  making  it  treason  to  cross; 
the  doorway  of  the  womb,  but  they  demand  to  fill  it  with  their 
own  impurities  as  if  it  were  a  cess  pool.  The  Harlot's  house  sits 
everywhere  as  evidence.  The  law  of  God  is  clear  and  clean  cut; 
hideous  diseases  warn  men  of  the  penalty  of  sins  against  the 
holy  matrix  of  the  race,  and  against  the  holy  child,  but  the  male 
side  of  the  human  family  demands  for  itself  unchastity;  yet  a 
chaste  womb  for  its  uses;  and  the  child  that  should  be  holy,  is 
its  victim,  as  well  as  is  the  woman  who  carries  the  child  in  her 
womb. 

I  heard  once  of  a  man  who  claimed  to  be  a  Minister  of  God, 
and  he  told  another,  "Adultery,  is  the  least  punished  of  the  sins 
mentioned  in  the  Bible".  Poor  Fool!  There  is  the  most  signal 
evidence  that  Adultery  is  most  punished  of  all  sins  that  men 
commit  and  the  Holy  book  declares  it.  What  sin  is  punished 
by  a  disease  that  rots  a  man's  bones  in  his  skin,  that  makes  him  a 
mass  of  corruption  and  full  of  horrible  worms,  before  the  breath 
leaves  him;  that  stinks,  that  is  dead,  though  he  is  alive,  'whose 
very  touch  'is  death,  to  another,  and  no  cure  is  known,  and 
his  sin  will  descend  to  curse  any  child  he  may  beget,  for  gen- 
erations. Yet  the  harlot,  the  brothel,  the  White  Slave  Traffic, 
all,  curse  every  land  to-day.  Men  and  women  are  born  who 
have  no  chastity  whatever,  and  who  are  agreed  there  is  no  such 
thing,  in  the  face  of  facts.  Others  have  come  who  deny  chas- 
tity is  a  virtue.  The  sin  of  Sodom  has  re-appeared.  Kraft 
Ebbing's  awful  book  emphasises  the  effects  of  this  terrible" vio- 
lation of  God's  laws  against  the  woman's  womb,  and  against 
the  child  that  was  meant  to  be  as  holy  as  Mary's  child. 
Let  the  Theologians  go  into  the  books;  let  them  pray  to,  and 
sit  at,  the  feet  of  Holy  Mothers  of  Holy  children  and  learn,  and 
teach  the  truth.  Let  chastity  which  conserves  life  and  vigor 


234  >  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

and  power  be  taught  to  boys  and  men,  as  well  as  to  girls  and 
women,  and  be  demanded  of  them.  Let  the  house  of  the  harlot  be 
closed  forever!  When  she,  poor  wretch,  learns  that  her  Hfe  has 
a  limit  of  four  years,  and  of  the  horrors  she  invites  to  her  body 
and  of  the  danger  she  is  in,  always  everywhere,  she  will  try  and 
help  herself  perhaps;  but  so  long  as  men  demand  unchastity  for 
themselves,  and  sin  against  the  woman's  womb,  and  sin  against 
the  Holy  Child,  the  curse  of  God  is  on  them  and  on  the  race  as 
well.  Let  all  learn  from  a  wise  one:  — 

"For  the  lips  of  a  strange  woman  drop  as  an 
honeycomb,  and  her  mouth  is  smoother  than  oil;  But 
her  end  is  bitter  as  wormwood,  sharp  as  a  two-edged 
sword. 

Her  feet  go  down  to  death;  her  steps  take  hold  of 
Hell. 

Remove  thy  way  far  from  her  and  come  not  nigh 
the  door  of  her  house; 

Lest  thou  give  thine  honour  unto  others,  and  thy 
years  unto  the  cruel. 

Lest  strangers  be  filed  with  thy  wealth ;  and  thy 
labors  be  in  the  house  of  a  stranger; 

And  thou  mourn  at  last,  when  thy  flesh  and  thy 
body  are  consumed, 

For  by  means  of  a  whorish  woman  a  man  is  bought 
to  a  piece  of  bread;  and  the  adultress  will  hunt  for  the 
precious  life. 

He  goeth  after  her  straightway  as  an  ox  goeth  to 
the  slaughter,  or  as  a  fool  to  the  correction  of  the  stocks, 
till  a  dart  strike  though  his  liver,  and  he  knoweth  not 
it  is  for  his  life. 

For  she  has  cast  down  many  wounded ;  yea,  many 
strong  men  have  been  slain  by  her.  , 

Her  house  is  the  way  to  hell,  going  down  to  the 
chambers  of  death."— Proverbs.  — (Bible) 
The  demand  of  the  man  upon  the  woman,   has  come  back 
like  a  boomerang,  with  a  curse  to  him  and  his. 

In  the  ancient  times  Queens  would  breed  themselves  to 
great  warriors,  for  they  wanted  great  Sons.  The  woman  should 
make  sure  she  bears  children  to  a  father  who  is  as  great  and 


A  LOVE  STORY  235 

chaste,  as  she  desires  her  sons  and  daughters  to  be.  If  the  Vir- 
gin bee,  in  the  mysteries  of  nature  can,  as  a  Virgin,  produce 
her  young,  who  shall  say,  if  men  refuse  obedience  to  the  law  of 
chastity,  and  women  desire  motherhood  and  remembers  her 
womb  is  holy,  that  she  may  conceive  a  Holy  child,  an  incarnate 
soul;  that  she  shall  be  overshadowed  by  the  Holy  Ghost;  that  she, 
chaste  and  obedient  to  a  law  higher  than  she  understands, 
by  nature,  may  bring  forth  a  child,  may  like  Mary,  and  the 
Virgin  Bee,  carry  a  son  in  her  matrix  and  later  in  her  arms  a 
child  that  is  Holy -a  Holy  Child. 

That  a  perfect  individual  may  be  born  of  a  Virgin,  ex- 
tends to  the  highest  forms  of  life  Huxley  asserts.  This 
is  sustained  by  Mivart,  Lyell,  Owen,  Sir  James  T.  Simp- 
son, Steenstrops,  Castille  and  others.  It  is  conceded  that  Par- 
thenogenesis is  a  demonstrable  fact. 


236  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

FOUR  ANGELS. 

Hark,  a  voice  calleth  there, 
Through  the  dark  winter  air; 
Snow  flakes  are  falling, 
Winds  sadly  soughing, 
O'er  hill  and  plain. 

Listen  so  soft  and  clear, 

''Donald  and  Blanche" — oh,  hear, 

"Willie  and  Hughie  — 

Come  little  children, 

Some  one  doth  long  for  thee". 

He  who  in  tenderness, 
Childrer  did  often  bless, 
Calleth  so  softly: 
"Willie  and  Hughie,* 
Blanchie  and  Donald". 

Quick  to  the  gentle  call — 
Answered  the  children  all, 
"We  hear  Thee  Master!"- 
Passed  o'er  the  border  land, 
Met  Him,  in  Heaven. 

Left  is  earth's  care  and  pain; 
In  our  loss  is  their  gain  — 
Angels  forever — 
Willie  and  Hughie, 
Blanchie  and  Donald. 


A  LOVE  STORY  237 

• 
THE  CHILD. 

'  'How  shall  we  order  the  child  and  what  shall  ive  do  unto 
him. "-The  Bible. 

There  is  a  beautiful  story  in  the  Bible,  of  a  little  priest  of  the 
Danites,  one  Manoah.  He  and  his  wife  had  no  child,  though 
it  was  the  deep  desire  of  their  hearts.  The  women  of  that  day 
prayed  for  children,  as  some  do  now,  and  Manoah's  wife,  whose 
name  is  not  given,  told  him  one  day  when  he  came  from  the 
field,  that  an  Angel  had  appeared  unto  her  and  told  her  she  was 
to  bear  a  son.  Manoah  asked  the  Lord  that  he  might  see  the 
Angel,  and  when  he  appeared  again,  and  after  he  did  homage 
to  him,  the  Father  who  was  to  be,  asked  of  the  Angelic  visitor 
"How  shall  we  order  the  child,  and  ivhat  shall  ivedounto  him". 

If  each  child  that  is  to  be,  were  entreated  of  God,  and  the 
Fathers'  would  ask  as  did  those  of  "ancient  days'"  "How  shall 
we  order  the  child,  and  what  shall  we  do  unto  him",  problems 
that  plague  us  in  the  child,  and  civilization  could  be  solved. 

Oliver  W.  Holmes  said  '  'Any  disease  can  be  cured  but  one 
must  begin  two  hundred  years  before  the  child  is  born,  often". 
I  consider  the  laws  made  to  protect  children  after  they  are  born, 
and  I  wonder  why  Preachers,  Priests  and  Reformers  do  not 
preach  and  instruct  old  and  young  how  to  "order  the  child" 
before  it  is  born.  We  license  vice  everywhere  and  ^expect 
the  children  will  be  born  right.  Well,  they  will  not  be,  they 
cannot  come  right  from  men  and  women  who  tamper  with  the 
laws  of  nature.  When  we  order  the  child  according  to  the  law 
of  righteousness,  strong  men  and  women  shall  be  born,  and  evil 
will  decline. 

Poor  little  children,  brought  into  being  any  kind  of  how, 
without  a  prayer;  laden  and  saddled  with  the  sins  of  father 
and  mother  and  of  ancestors  way  way  back,  often ;  many  born 
only  to  suffer  and  die;  many  born  to  vice  and  crime;  begotten 
of  fathers  saturated  with  lust,  disease  and  evil;  conceived  of 
mothers  saturated  in  carelessness  and  selfishness,  and  who 
carry  them  in  wombs  diseased,  or  full  of  a  lust  for  murder.  We 
expect  too  much  of  children  and  too  little  of  their  ancestors  and 
immediate  parents. 


238  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

We  pass  laws  to  protect  childrap  after  they  are  born.  We  li- 
cense the  saloon,  the  gambling  den,  the  brothel,  to  ruin  them  be- 
fore they  are  born  and  after  they  are  born.  We  plant  epilepsey, 
insanity,  tuberculosis,  the  black  plague  and  crime  in  their  beings, 
and  then  punish  and  care  for  the  disorders  incarnate  in  the 
child.  I  knew  two  little  girls,  grandchildren  of  a  saloon  drunk- 
ard, whose  sons  were  all  drunkards  and  two  of  whom  killed 
themselves.  The  father  of  these  little  girls  took  his  life,  un- 
able to  bear  the  misery  of  it.  The  little  girls  were  both  inbred 
harlots;  whose  fault  was  that?  I  knew  a  sweet  little  girl, 
bright  eyed  and  pretty  whose  father  was  debased,  and  whose 
mother  was  a  harlot.  I  said,  "Who  can  save  her  poor  little 
girl?  Her  mother  will  sell  her  to  base  men  as  soon  as  she  can. 
She  will  go  to  destruction;  no  one  can  save  her;  and  no  one 
could.  And  she  grew  into  young  girlhood  and  a  harlot  like  her 
mother.  Poor  little  girl,  she  deserved  better  but  she  bore  the 
sins  of  others  on  her  tender  shoulders  and  she  died.  Oh  how 
many  boys  we  have  labored  for  and  lamented  over,  but  we  can't 
save  them.  Of  girls,  we  have  everywhere  sent  out  our  quota 
to  fill  the  ranks  of  those  who  demonstrate  they  were  begotten 
and  conceived  in  lust,  not  love,  and  everywhere  we  see  the  boys 
and  girls  go  down  the  road  to  ruin,  because  of  sins  not  their 
own,  . 

Bulwer  Lytton  wrote  a  book  that  he  desired  should  move 
men  deeply,  and  that  should  stay  in  their  minds  and  hearts. 
It  wa*s  the  story  of  a  simple,  pretty  country  lass  who  was  be- 
trayed by  a  so-called  gentleman,  who  had  all  the  seducers  arts 
and  good  looks  and  money,  and  a  lying  tongue.  Out  of  this 
wrong  came  a  little  child,  a  boy.  The  mother  died  of  shame 
and  grief,  and  the  child  was  beaten  from  post  to  pillar  as  such 
children  usually  are.  Then  the  gentleman  father  died,  and 
went  to  hell,  where  the  devils  rushed  him  through  the  bodies 
of  the  lower  animals,  even  that  of  a  skunk,  to  punish  him. 
This  finished  they  sat  in  Council  to  determine  the  worst  pun- 
ishment for  his  offence  that  they  as  devils  could  conceive  of; 
and  they  decided  that  the  worst  punishment  they  could  inflict, 
was  to  make  him  the  tempter  and  destroyer  of  his  own  son. 

Now,  men  and  women  everywhere  are  the  tempters  and  de- 
stroyers of  their  own  sons  and  daughters.  We  license  the 


A  LOVE  STORY  239 

saloon,  the  brothel,  the  gambling  hell,  dance  hall  and  every  evil 
thing,  and  our  children  travel  the  road  to  death  and  destruction, 
and  a  living  hell  that  way.  We  do  the  work  of  devils  and  the 
victims  are  our  own  children. 

We  do  this  diabolical  work  in  spite  of  the  laws  of  God  which 
are  the  laws  in  ourselves,  and  which  all  cry  out  against  us.  We 
know  how  to  incubate  cholera,  diptheria,  typhus,  the  bubonic 
plague,  in  glass  tubes,  and  in  the  wretched  animals  we  vivisect,  we 
make  more  and  more  of  the  germs  we  culture;  and  by  a  like  pro- 
cess we  incubate  disease  and  crime.  The  saloon  and  the  brothel 
are  the  great  cultures  for  crime  and  disease,  and  we  have  a 
plenty.  We  increase  insanity,  imbecility,  epilepse'y,  tubercu- 
losis, the  black  plague  and  all  the  horrible  diseases  of  licentious- 
ness, but  we  keep  the  saloon  and  brothel  and  culture  more.  We 
denounce  the  public  drinking  cup,  but  we  license  the  brothel 
and  its  inmates  and  culture  more  and  more  of  the  sex  diseases; 
the  public  drinking  cup  abolished  will  not  save  us.  We  can 
kiss  a  baby,  a  friend,  a  father  or  a  brother  or  a  husband  and 
contract  a  horrible  disease. 

The  Potato  that  now  feeds  the  world  was  cultured  from  a 
little  half  poison  tuber  found  in  America;  every  year  sees  new 
varieties  propegated  from  seeds  and  pollenizing.  Tomatoes 
from  a  little  squashy  fruit  as  big  as  the  ends  of  our  thumbs, 
ranges  through  pink,  red  and  yellow  hues,  and  it  is  early  and 
late,  and  runs  in  all  sizes  to  the  great  Ponderoso  sorts,  solid 
and  delicious  and  feeding  the  earth;  every  year  the  wiz- 
ards of  the  gardens  show  us  new  and  better  kinds.  The  whole 
line  of  our  delicious  apples  which  feed  the  lands  and  enrich  our 
pockets,  own  the  little  bitter  sour  crab  apple  as  their  progenitor 
and  always  we  have  new  sorts.  The  long  list  of  luscious  peaches, 
freestones,  clings,  red,  white  and  yellow,  were  mothered  by  a 
half  poison  fruit,  from  a  bush  grown  in  Persia. 

The  roses,  annual,  teas,  bourbons,  perpetuals,  climbers,  all 
the  colors  and  shades  of  colors,  sprang  from  the  wild  rose  that 
grows  from  the  edge  of  the  Arctic  Circles  through  the  tropics. 
The  sheep,  the  goat,  the  cattle,  the  dog  and  cat,  horses  beasts  of 
every  kind  of  the  best,  are  all  cultured  from  the  wild  and 
inferior  animals. 

Man,  as  yet,  has  not  gone  into  the  culture  business  for  the 


240  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

race.  Physically,  the  wild  man  is  a  better  specimen  than  the 
man  of  culture,  and  in  his  way  has  a  better  education  of  his 
senses.  In  the  centers  of  civilization,  great  cities,  we  find  the 
lowest  types  of  man.  For,  with  an  environment  which  ought 
to  be  of  the  best,  he  has  become  decadent  in  mind  and  body, 
He  is  not  a  beast;  he  is  not  a  normal  man.  The  beast  is  nat- 
ural. This  decadent  man  is  lower  than  the  beasts. 

The  Greeks,  the  Romans  and  the  Spartans,  tried  man  cul- 
ture, but  they  also  were  disobedient  to  the  laws  of  God,  and 
they  came  to  an  end.  The  Mormons  in  due  season,  because  of 
their  promiscuity,  will  end,  if  the  United  States  does  not  end 
their  polygamus  practices  as  it  ought,  sooner.  Why  do  not 
Christian  peoples  and  educated  peoples  seek  to  culture  noble 
men  and  women,  spiritually,  mentally  and  physically,  in- 
stead of  giving  so  much  time  to  ruin  them  with  a  specious 
culture,  instead  of  with  a  culture  that  takes  the  whole  man  in, 
and  measures  him  to  the  standard  of  a  perfect  man  in  God,  and 
from  a  right  beginning?  Why  do  not  the  civilized  races  spend 
as  much  effort  to  culture  the  human  race  as  they  do  to  culture 
the  vegetables,  grains,  fruits  and  stock?  This  is  a  prodigious 
question  and  the  Church  ought  to  take  hold  of  it.  If  she  does 
she  will  live;  if  she  does  not,  she  will  travel  faster  and  faster  to 
her  end. 

The  poison, of  terrible  things  in  human  life  is  everywhere, 
in  everything,  yet  we  go  on  with  our  culture  of  it  and  few  even 
know  enough  to  teach  the  truth. 

"What  fools  these  mortals  be"  said  Puck.  I'm  minded  to 
say,  "How  devilish  we  mortals  are".  Let  us  ask  of  God  for 
each  child.  "How  shall  we  order  it".  "What  shall  we  do  unto 
it  before  it  is  born".  Shall  the  child  be  born  right  or  shall  we 
incarnate  it  as  a  mass  of  disease  and  with  devilish  tendencies? 

If  I  had  a  little  child  to  teach  I  would  so  live  and  walk  be- 
fore it  that  it  should  see  in  me  an  inspiration  for  the  highest  I 
tried  to  teach  it.  I  would  try  to  preserve  in  it  that  sweet  trust 
and  sincerity  that  children  have.  I  would  teach  it  of  its  hands 
and  feet,  eyes  and  ears,  and  nose  and  mouth  and  tongue  and  of 
all  the  organs  of  the  body  and  their  functions.  I  would  teach 
it  of  the  heart,  out  of  which  are  the  issues  of  life,  I  would 
teach  it  of  the  marvels  of  being,  and  of  the  Will  which  is  the 


A  LOVE  STORY  241 

great  Governor  of  that  mighty  engine  of  forces  the  body.  I 
wonld  teach  it  of  the  beautiful  life  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  grew 
in  grace  and  beauty,  and  in  favor  with  God  and  man  as  a  child; 
and  of  God,  who  is  the  author  of  all  and  to  whom  all  must  be 
subject,  not  only  man^J^ut  the  Universe.  A  wise  Mother,  at 
the  close  of  each  day  took  her  little  daughters  hands  in  hers 
and  asked  the  story  of  the  day,  and  if  the  little  hands  had  been 
good,  she  kissed  them,  but  if  they  had  been  naughty,  she  did 
not  put  that  seal  of  approval  on  them ;  the  tears  the  little  girl 
shed  when  her  hands  were  unkissed,  washed  the  stains  away 
and  led  the  child  out  to  holy  places.  I  would  take  my  little 
lad  or  lass  out  under  the  stars  at  night,  and  when  the  moon 
flooded  the  earth  with  radiance  or  showed  her  silver  horns,  I 
would  teach  of  celestial  things,  of  the  beauty  of  the  moon  and 
stars,  and  of  what  laid  behind  it  all.  God!  I  would  teach  those 
marvellous  things,  and  lead  the  childs  tender  mind  to  know  more 
than  I  know.  I  would  teach  of  the  flowers  and  grasses,  of  the 
mystery  hidden  in  the  tiny  seed,  of  the  processes  of  reproduc- 
tion so  far  as  we  know,  I  would  saturate  the  child's  mind  with 
the  beauty  and  wonder  of  land  and  sea,  of  winds  and  rain,  of 
sun  and  light  and  darkness;  how  the  heart  grows  cold  and  cal- 
lous that  does  not  love;  how  the  sense  of  beauty  needs  cultiva- 
tion. I  would  teach  it  many  things  of  the  good  and  great  of 
earth.  I  would  read  with  it  in  the  Bible,  and  the  Poets,  and  that 
all  things  demanded  men  and  women  should  be  good,  and  back 
of  all,  and  under  all,  was  God  and  the  Holy  Angels.  I  would 
try  and  make  the  world  a  place  of  mystery  and  enchantment, 
whose  charm  could  never  fail,  and  that  all  might  atune  unto  it. 
I  would  teach  the  reality  and  earnestness  of  life,  and  I  would 
teach  it  how  to  work.  I  have  taught  many  children  the  best 
I  know.  It  is  a  delightful  task,  and  when  we  consider  the  life 
that  may  grow  out  of  it;  we  long  to  some  day  be  able  to  know 
of  it.  The  normal  child  turns  toward  truth  as  the  flower  to- 
ward the  sun.  It  is  only  we  who  handle  them  who  lack  wisdom 
but  we  are  told  to  ask  that  of  God.  When  we  ask  of  God  and 
the  Holy  Angels  "How  shall  we  order  the  child  and  what  shall 
we  do  unto  it",  before  it  is  incarnate,  we  shall  know  in  its  full- 
ness the  meaning  of  the  words  '  'Their  Angels  do  always  see 
the  face  of  my  Father  which  is  in  Heaven." 


242  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

Men  look  at  the  cow,  the  swine,  the  horse,  the  sheep  and 
say  to  bring  forth  young  is  natural,  and  looking  at  the  women 
they  say  the  same  and  then  proceed  to  make  demands  of  her 
that  is  not  expected  of  any  brute,  and  that  no  female  animal  will 
allow;  and  these  women  must  bear  it  9H;  the  house  labor,  her 
child  care,  bodily  miseries  of  many  sorts,  her  apprehension  of 
the  future,  for  with  her  the  end  may  mean  death  and  the  leaving 
of  other  children  to  be  cared  for  by  others.  Unlike  the  brute 
that  breeds,  woman  has  a  mind  to  think  and  a  heart  to  feel, 
and  a  will,  of  which  must  be  subjugated,  if  she  would  have  a 
child,  and  at  the  end  stands  death  maybe,  and  nine  long  months 
she  walks  with  him,  and  every  child  she  bears  increases  her 
peril.  To  a  woman  who  knows  and  thinks  and  feels,  it  is  a  ter- 
rible problem. 

I  have  no  patience  with  men  who  make  hysterical  screeches 
on  the  race  suicide  question.  That  is  a  question  for  the  woman 
who  faces  death  for  the  child  to  decide.  On  one  occasion  we 
are  told  Henry  VIII  was  told  by  his  physician  that  his  then  wife 
was  in  a  crisis  in  her  labor,  and  that  they  faced  the  question  of 
taking  the  life  of  Mother  or  child.  Which  should  it  be?  "Save 
the  child",  said  Henry,  women  are  plenty".  I  detest  a  man 
who,  with  a  wife  dead  in  childbirth,  marries  again,  and  demands 
of  the  world  that  women  bring  forth  more  children.  Let  him 
be  humble— one  has  died  for  him.  Let  the  woman  decide;  let 
men  keep  their  hands  off. 

Ah,  what  cruelties  does  this  human  creature  suffer  who 
must  bring  forth  children!  Robbed  by  the  law  of  her 
rights,  ordered  to  bring  forth  children  that  men  may  supply  the 
brothel  from  her  daughters,  and  the  brutalities  of  slaughter  in 
war  for  her  sons,  spending  thousands  and  millions  of  money  she 
has  earned  and  men  took  from  her,  to  build  great  Battleships 
and  make  great  guns  and  ball  and  powder,  and  all  the  horrible 
implements  of  .war  to  mar  and  mutilate  and  murder  hers'  and 
other  woman's  sons;  robbing,  her  of  her  property  and  sons 
and  leaving  her  a  pensioner  perhaps  on  others,  when  she  is  old. 
Men  in  America  allow  the  newly  imported  foreigner,  the  Negro, 
Indian,  returned  Convict,  to  vote;  and  set  up  the  gambling  den 
and  the  brothel  and  saloon  to  destroy  what  she  ventured  her 
life  to  bring  forth!  The  woman  is  not  allowed  a  voice  in  any  of 


A  LOVE  STORY  243 

it.     Yet  she  is  demanded  to  bring  forth  children. 

August  Bebel  says,  that  the  '  'average  height  of  the  German 
soldier  has  had  to  be  reduced  three  times  in  as  many  decades." 
He  says  this  deterioration  of  the  size  of  a  german  man  is  due 
to  the  ill  treatment  the  German  Mothers  receive.  If  men  would 
only  free  their  women  everywhere!  It  is  an  old  saying  that 
"Slave  women  cannot  bring  forth  free  children".  Lowell  says, 
"They  enslave  their  children's  children  who  make  compromise 
with  sin".  Men  for  their  own  sakes  need  to  free  women,  as 
free  as  they  are  free.  It  is  hard  I  admit  to  have  the  women 
so  long  taught  as  their  lawful  subjects  and  prey,  to  slip  out 
from  under  their  thumbs.  It  is  not  a  good  showing  the  men 
of  America  make  to  refuse  to  free  their  women,  especially  since 
they  have  enfranchised  the  Negro,  Indian,  and  returned  Convicts 
all  of  whom  they  must  admit  are  inferior  to  the  white  woman. 
A  respectable  bachelor,  a  Deacon  in  the  Presbyterian  Church, 
was  once  talking  to  two  widows,  one  of  whom  kept  boarders 
and  had  raised  a  large  family,  the  other  was  myself  who  was  a 
farmer  and  a  worker  at  all  sorts  of  things.  He  said  "In  Nature 
the  male  was  always  at  the  head,  among  the  animals,  etc.," 
therefore  the  man  should  be  over  the  woman.  We  disputed, 
and  told  him  the  only  she  thing  in  Nature  that  was  dominated 
by  the  male  was  the  woman,  that  every  other  she  creature  was 
free.  He  looked  horrified,  but  that  was  the  demonstrable  truth; 
and  man  is  to  blame  for  it  because  he  has  used  his  brute  force 
to  dominate  woman  on  every  hand,  materially,  physically,  so- 
cially, financially,  politically;  and  the  sooner  he  sets  his  mind 
to  understand,  and  his  will  to  do,  the  better  for  him  and  her, 
and  the  child,  around  which  all  creation  must  perforce  revolve. 
It  was  true  what  Jesus  said,  "A  little  child  shall  lead  them". 

Bret  Harte's  poor  harlot's  child  dominated  and  subjugated 
the  evil  spirits  of  the  Camp  in  the  Sierras.  So  if  men  want 
noble  children  they  must  enfranchise  and  free  the  mother  and 
have  her  as  free  as  all  the  other  shes  in  creation.  The  man  or 
woman  who  raises  a  noble  child  has  done  greater  things  than 
he  who  writes  a  book  or  paints  a  picture,  or  sculptures  out  of 
the  cold  stone  an  image  of  a  man  or  woman,  or  other  things. 
The  Holy  Ghost  must  move  upon  the  souls  and  minds  and  wills 
of  men  and  women  to  the  child  begotten  of  them.  It  shall  in- 


244  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

deed  be  the  Holy  Child,  because  it  was  overshadowed  in  its 
Mother's  womb  with  the  Holy  Ghost.  Catholics  offer  women 
safe  transport  to  heaven  who  die  in  childbirth.  The  Orthodox 
Jews  do  the  same,  and  every  child  a  woman  bears  she  is  taught 
to  believe  wipes  away  all  of  her  sins  to  the  time  of  its  birth.  I 
am  sure  they  who  bear  children  will  occupy  the  high  places  in 
the  Hereafter.  Who  can  understand  the  deep  things  of  God 
like  the  woman  who  walks  for  nine  long  months  hand  in-  hand 
with  death? 

Men  and  women  need  children.  All  the  culture  of  the 
schools  ought  to  be  preparation  for  child  rearing.  It  is  the 
great  school  of  the  race.  There  is  no  culture  of  whatever  kind 
like  the  profound  culture  that  comes  to  one  from  rearing  child- 
ren, in  view  of  all'  its  responsibilities,  and  values.  No  culture 
whatever  is  more  than  dust  and  ashes,  beside  such  a  task.  Let 
every  woman  demand  the  best  for  her  child.  Love  that  has  not 
the  hope  of  the  child  as  its  culmination  is  lust.  There  is  noth- 
ing in  it  that  is  worth  while.  We  need  not  the  one  '  'Little 
Christ  Child"  one  day  in  the  year;  we  need  the  Holy  Child  on 
every  day  of  every  year,  that  we  can  rise  to  the  best  and  holi- 
est that  is  in  us  and  bring  up  men  and  women  who  are  of  the 
full  stature  of  the  Christ,  in  love  and  life.  The  solemn  fact  con- 
fronts us  that  Life  and  Death  walk  hand  in  hand  together, 
through  it  all.  And  the  child  must  lead  us  to  the  best  that  man 
can  know. 


A  LOVE  STORY  245 

BABY  'COTT. 

Two  merry  laughing  eyes, 
Of  sweetest  hazel  hue, 
The  drollests  little  grin, 
When  she  peeps  up  at  you, 
Has  Baby  'Cott. 

The  cutest  little  nose  — 
"Tip-tilted"  like  a  flower- 
She  is  the  sweetest  rose 
That  blooms  in  mamma's  bower, 
Dear  Baby  'Cott. 

Two  honey  scented  lips, 
Like  rubies  cleft  in  twain, 
Ten  dimpled  finger  tips, 
In  mischief  every  hour, 
Sweet  Baby  'Cott, 

Two  restless  little  feet, 
Are  pattering  on  the  floor, 
Her  dove-like  cooing  sweet, 
Floats  on  the  azure  air, 
Bright  Baby  'Cott. 

O,  may  her  tender  feet, 
Ne'r  stray  in  thorny  ways, 
And  let  her  graces  sweet, 
Not  fade  in  coming  days, 
Pure  Baby  'Cott. 


246  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


IT  ISN'T  FAIR. 

I  saw  one  day  a  little  lad  with  blue  eyes  and  curly  hair.  I 
smiled  at  him  and  he  smiled  back  again,  but  there  was  a  look 
in  his  face  like  that  of  a  Masterless  dog,  and  I  felt  a  thrill  of 
pity  for  the  poor  little  chap.  His  Grandfather,  long  dead,  was 
a  saloon  drunkard,  and  his  father  was  a  thief,  and  I  knew  that 
little  fellow  would  never  amount  to  much  even  if  he  did  not  be- 
come a  vicious  boy  and  man  and  land  in  jail  or  the  Pen. 

I  knew  a  sweet  little  girl,  pretty  and  bright,  but  her  mother 
was  a  harlot,  and  I  said  "As  soon  as  Maude  is  old  enough  she 
will  go  to  the  bad,  we  cannot  help  it,  no  one  can,  and  she  did. 
She  was  a  pretty  woman  and  she  became  a  pursuer  of  men,  a 
destruction  to  families,  and  a  feeder  of  evil  because  she  broke  the 
law,  of  men  and  truth,  in  obedience  to  a  law  written  in  her 
body. 

I  knew  a  man  who  was  full  of  lust,  and  preyed  on  women; 
his  father  before  him  was  a  sinner  of  that  sort. 

I  knew  a  man  who  was  insane.  His  mother's  people  were 
hard  drinkers  and  he  paid  for  their  violation  of  law. 

I  knew  a  woman  whose  grandfather  was  a  drunkard  and 
she  had  his  thirst  in  her,  and  she  became  a  drunkard  too. 

I  knew  a  man  whose  father  taught  him  to  drink.  He  be- 
came the  curse  of  his  father,  the  scourge  of  his  mother  and 
family,  and  abandoned  his  wife  and  his  own  little  children. 

It  was  not  fair;  it  was  not  right  that  these  should  have  had 
to  pay  for  the  evils  of  their  fathers  and  mothers,  but  it  is  the 
law  that  the  innocent  must  suffer  for  the  guilty,  and  if  men 
do  not  know  or  care,  the  law  will  not  be  changed  for  them. 
They  are  not  fair  to  their  own  flesh  and  blood.  Why  should 
they  demand  of  God,  what  they  will  not  render  themselves  to 
their  own. 

I  knew  a  boy  whose  grandfather  was  a  drunkard,  his  father 
a  thief  and  his  mother  a  drunkard's  child.  The  boy  is  a  thief 
and  dead  beat,  and  cannot  be  cured.  What  profit  is  it  to  a 
town  or  a  state  or  a  nation  to  license  the  sale  of  liquor  and 
bawdry,  and  other  evils,  and  create  citizens  like  that?  Some  day, 
maybe,  men  will  learn  how  sure  God's  law  is,  and  will  become  obe- 


A  LOVE  STORY  247 

dient  to  it,  but  now  they  set  up  causes,  and  take  conclusions  like 
this  for  their  pay.  And  so  on,  one  can  multiply  over  and  over  again 
such  instances.  It  isn't  fair  to  the  child,  and  no  man  can  es- 
cape the  law.  So  it  is  not  fair. 


248  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

HARLOTS. 

Every  town  has  its  stock  of  harlots,  and  they  -have  the  pro- 
tection of  the  law  except  at  rare  intervals  when  things  get  too 
stin-king,  and  then  they  get  a  small  scare  by  threats  of  laws 
enforcement,  or  are  arrested  and  fined  a  little.  Everybody 
knows  who  they  are,  and  where  they  are  located,  even  the 
children.  They  corrupt  other  women  and  young  girls,  by  their 
siren  talk  of  the  easy  life  they  lead  and  the  easy  money  they 
make.  They  poison  boys  and  men  with  incurable  diseases,  that 
are  carried  by  them  to  be  communicated  to  wives,  to  mothers, 
to  sisters  and  others,  we  are  told.  '  'The  public  drinking  cup  is  a 
menace"  says  the  law;  but  the  presence  of  our  harlots  who  are 
all  diseased,  poisons  the  cup  and  is  a  menace  to  everybody  in 
the  community;  we  say  little  about  it;  it  is  too  shameful,  we 
do  not  enforce  the  law.  We  campaign  hotly  the  results  of  the 
harlots  work,  but  we  protect  the  cause— her  presence  and  her 
business,  and  we  have  more  and  more  of  the  horrible  diseases 
she  genders. 

The  police  do  not  meddle,  for  the  men  who  vote  them  into 
offices  want  harlots  in  the  town,  many  of  them.  The*  police 
know  well  enough  they  will  turn  themselves  out  of  office  if  they 
meddle  too  much.  Women  are  pacified  by  men  to  the  harlots 
presence  by  the  silly  story  that  she  is  a  necessity,  that  she  is 
really  the  "Priestess  of  humanity",  that  virtuous  women  would 
not  be  safe  from  assault  except  for  her  presence  in  the  Com- 
munity. Women,  girls  and  children  are  already  assaulted 
everywhere,  and  these  assaults  increase,  and  the  harlot's  busi- 
ness makes  these  assaults  more  certain. 

I  am  of  the  mind  of  a  good  Catholic  Priest  of  New  Jersey. 
A  young  woman  of  his  congregation  was  assaulted  on  the  pub- 
lic road.  She  made  a  terrible  fight  to  protect  herself  but  she  was 
cruelly  murdered.  As  he  made  an  address  over  her  dead  body 
he  said,  '  If  women  are  no  longer  safe  from  the '  assaults  of 
men,  I  advise  them  to  fill  their  belts  with  pistols  and  take  care 
themselves.  In  Effingham  a  virtuous  woman  and  a  young  girl, 
on  the  same  night,  were  assaulted  by  a  rascally  man.  I  went 
to  our  Mayor  and  told  him  the  circumstances  and  said,  '  'Will 
you  permit  the  women  of  this  town  to  carry  pistols  in  their  own 


A  LOVE  STORY  249 

defence  from  fellows  like  this,  who  lay  hands  upon  them  by 
night"?  "Oh,  no,  no"  he  said,  "let  them  file  complaint". 
"They  will  not",  I  said,  submit  themselves  to  the  insult  of  a  trial 
like  that  and  have  a  jury  called  who  will,  in  all  probability, 
not  fine  the  rascal,  and  leave  them  the  shame  to  carry,  and 
have  a  doubt,  perhaps,  cast  on  their  own  virtue.  But  he  still 
said  "No",  A  policeman,  more  kind  and  just,  told  the  women 
how  to  make  and  carry  a  "billy"  at  night,  and  also  how  to  use  it. 
So  women  have  to  look  out  for  themselves,  while  the  har- 
lots run  free,  and  make  assaults  upon  women  and  girls  certain; 
and  these  things  are  everywhere;  and  women  and  girls  are 
murdered  all  over  the  land  by  means  of  this  damnable  con- 
dition. A  certain  harlot  infested  Effingham  for  twenty  years. 
She  was  notorious  and  everybody  knew  her  and  her  call- 
ing. She  had  a  son  who  was  a  petty  thief,  and  a  daughter 
who  was  a  harlot  like  her  mother.  The  daughter  had  children 
and  they  all  three  came  upon  the  town  for  support,  for  they 
would  not  work.  The  son  was  in  jail  time  and  again,  and  the 
Mother  finally  concluded  she  would  come  upon  the  County  also. 
She  was  a  big  stout  woman,  but  she  "got  on",  along  with  three 
others  who  plied  the  same  trade.  It  was*  too  much  to  endure, 
and  I  went  to  the  grand  jury  and  made  complaint,  narrated 
the  condition  of  things  and  demanded  the  indictment  of  the  har- 
lot. To  the  Catholics,  Lutherans  and  Protestants,  on  that  body 
I  talked  fast  and  fully;  they  gave  me  a  good  hearing  but,  to  my 
disgust,  did  nothing  in  the  way  of  indictment;  but  they  all  went 
home  and  took  after  their  Supervisors  to  know  why  these  ras- 
cally law-breakers— these  harlots— were  on  the  pay-roll,  dress- 
ing finer  than  the  most  of  their  wives  and  doing  no  work  at  all, 
when  their  wives  had  to  work  hard  to  earn  money  to  live. 
That  was  a  poser!  When  the  County  Board  met  next  time  they 
sent  the  Sheriff  to  me  with  an  invitation  to  present  the  matter 
to  them.  I  was  glad  to  go,  and  these  women  were  all  dropped 
from  the  county  pay-roll  as  a  result.  What  I  wanted  was  to 
run  these  harlots  out  of  town;  those  men  were  all  satisfied  to 
let  them  stay  so  long,  as  they  escaped  the  stigma  of  allowing 
them  at  the  County  Crib,  and  a  little  money  saved  the  County! 
I  felt  sad  that  a  few  cents  counted  more  with  our  County  Legis- 
lature than  the  great  question  of  morals,  of  health  and  of  the 


250  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER  „ 

protection  of  women   girls  and  children. 

I  have  no  doubt  if  the  women  of  any  county  in  the  United 
States  were  to  chase  harlots,  they  would  find  just  what  I  found. 
The  grand  jury  following  the  one  I  mention  had  eight  good 
men  upon  it  in  the  twenty-four  that  composed  that  body.  I 
called  upon  a  young  Christian  man  upon  the  Jury,  and  laid  the 
matter  before  him  in  full,  and  said  "I  want  the  indictment  of 
that  wicked  old  harlot  who  has  ruined  so  many  and  spread 
disease. 

"I  want  to  teach  the  harlots  of  this  place  to  behave  and  to 
get  out,  but  I  do  not  wish  to  appear  this  time  before  the  Grand 
Jury, ' '  and  I  gave  him  the  names  of  the  other  seven  Grand 
Jurors  upon  whom  I  thought  he  could  reply.  The  jury  man  did 
his  best  and  he  told  me  it  was  the  hardest  job  he  ever  took  hold 
of,  but  they  got  the  harlot  indicted.  .1  wanted  her  sent  to  jail 
as  a  warning  to  the  rest,  and  as  notice  that  the  state  had  a  law, 
and  could  and  would  enforce  it.  The  States  Attorney,  a  sworn 
officer  of  the  law,  immediately  took  "straw  bail"  for  this 
woman.  I  visited' him  at  once  and  told  him  his  bondsmen  wTere 
no  good,  and  proved  it.  He  knew  it  as  well  as  I,  but  he  did 
not  intend  to  enforce  the  law.  He  wanted  to  defeat  the  law 
and  please  his  patrons.  I  got  after  one  of  the  bailers  who  was 
a  Lutheran.  I  went  to  the  preacher  of  his  Church,  and  I  got 
a  kinsman  of  his  wife  to  go  and  see  his  wife  and  tell  on  him; 
and,  between  his  wife  and  the  Church,  I  ran  that  bailer  off  the 
bond.  The  States  Attorney  immediately  took  another  straw 
bailer.  I  hunted  up  his  property  record;  neither  bailer  was 
worth  a  cent.  I  went  to  the  States  Attorney  again  but  he 
balked.  This  last  bailer  had  no  wife  and  belonged  to  no  Church 
so  I  was  blocked.  The  States  Attorney  refused  to  make  good; 
then  I  demanded  a  forfeiture  declared  of  the  bail  when  the 
matter  came  to  trial,  "Oh  yes"  he  bravely  agreed  to  that  and 
when  the  day  came,  and  the  accused  did  not  appear,  he  called 
the  names  of  the  bailers  in  a  loud  brave  voice,  and  the  bail  was 
declared  forfeited.  To  this  day  no  forfeited  bail  has  been  col- 
lected, because  there  was  nothing  to  collect.  The  harlot  es- 
caped the  penalty  of  the  law  in  such  cases  made  and  provided, 
the  same  old  farce  of  non  enforcement  was  enacted  in  the 
same  old  way,  and  foundations  were  laid  for  more  law  breaking 


A  LOVE  STORY  251 

of  the  same  sort,  and  of  other  kinds— all  kinds  in  fact,  and  the 
same  officers  of  the  law  engineered  it,  and  the  same  men  behind 
the  same  officer  of  the  law  sustained  it,  for  the  States  Attorney 
was  re-elected. 

After  this  harlot  was  indicted  I  went  to  an  Ex  Supervisor, 
and  asked  him  to  go  and  see  this  woman  and  tell  her  she  had  to 
get  out  of  Effingham,  for  it  was  the  intention  to  keep  after  her 
till  she  was  landed  in  jail,  and  punished  as  the  law  provided. 
She  finally  saw  the  point  and,  with  her  thief  son,  her  harlot 
daughter,  and  two  poor  little  wretched  grand -children  who 
would  walk  in  the  ways  of  their  Grandmother  and  Mother, 
took  her  leave  of  us.  Out  of  the  womb  of  Margaret  Jukes 
came  2000  criminals,  not  a  good  one  in  the  lot.  We  breed  har- 
lots and  harlotry,  and  protect  both.  We  violate  the  law  to  pro- 
tect them,  and  then  we  fill  pages  of  the  daily  papers  with 
dissertations  on  the  "public  drinking  cup"  which  carries  the 
terrible  poison  which  they  produce  and  keep  alive. 

We  encourage  the  vice  of  harlotry  in  red  light  districts  and 
protect  it,  and  then  go  carrying  on  the  consequences.  It  looks 
as  if  men  had  gone  mad  and  lost  their  power  to  connect  cause 
and  effect.  They  are,  however,  as  loud  voiced  about  the  drink- 
ing cup,  as  my  States  Attorney  was  to  call  his  "straw- bailers". 
Women  are  not  allowed  a  chance  to  protect  their  children  and 
themselves,  and  a  cry  is  raised  that  they  are  harder  on  the  har- 
lot than  the  men  are,  and  will  not  touch  her.  Why  shouldn't 
they  be?  And  they  ought  to  refuse  to  touch  the  harlots  gar- 
ments, there  is  death  in  them.  The  Bible  says  '  'she  it  is  who 
seeks  after  the  "precious  life",  that  her  feet  lay  hold  on  hell, 
and  her  way  is  the  way  of  destruction.  Men  follow  her  as  the 
"fool  goeth  to  the  stocks,  and  the  ox  to  the  shambles". 

Dr.  Prince  V.  Morrow  in  his  powerful  appeal  for  chastity  in 
men,  demands  we  shall  organize  to  fight  the  sex  diseases  as  a 
means  of  the  perservation  of  the  race.  Men  who  are  so  exer- 
cised on  race  suicide,  ought  to  read  what  he  says  and  then  do 
something,  instead  of  merely  howling  about  and  blaming  women. 
When  Doctors  and  other  men  organize  against  the  Black  Plague, 
which  is  the  harlots  gift  to  the  human  race,  we  will  no  longer 
argue  for  the  presence  of,  nor  protect  the  harlot,  and  her  male 
companion  in  vice  and  crime. 


252  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

Dio  Lewis  long  ago  taught  the  conserving  power  of  chastity, 
as  does  Holbrook  and  many  others,  but  Dr.  Morrow's  call  is  for 
organization  for  the  protection  of  the  race.  I  once  sent  Dr. 
Morrow's  pamphlet  on  the  need  of  organizing  against  Sex  Vice 
to  our  County  Medical  Association,  and  urged  them  to  read  it 
and  act.  It  is  not  a  long  story— could  be  read  in  thirty  minutes 
or  less;  they  sent  me  word  they  were  too  busy  "to  do  anything". 
Why  should  there  be  such  a  demand  for  women  to  bear  child- 
ren; when  so  comparatively  few  men  are  fit  to  be  fathers  be- 
cause of  the  harlot? 

Queens  of  the  ancient  times  visited  the  camps  of  great 
warriors  seeking  for  fathers  to  conquering  children  they  should 
bear,  that  should  succeed  to  their  kingdoms  '  'Thalestrus,  Queen 
of  the  Amazons,  came  into  the  camp  of  Alexander  the  great  to 
become  a  Mother  through  him".  — (August  Bebel  Woman,  Past, 
Present  and  Future. )  Yet  no  woman  of  modern  times  has  advocat- 
ed such  a  mode  of  procedure  to  stock  the  race  with  better  material, 
nor  any  man  strange  to  say.  The  Spartans  advocated  it.  If 
women  demand  that  they  breed  only  to  the  highest  types  of  men, 
and  leave  the  rest  of  mankind  to  the  harlots,  who  can  justly  com- 
plain. Men  have  been  demanding  women  breed  children,  knowing 
that  they  risk  their  life  and  venture  death  for  it.  The  fathers 
that  are  "offered  these  women  for  children  are  terribly  inferior, 
many  of  them.  Why  not  women  raise  a  demand  for  the  best 
fathers  for  their  children? 

As  men  demand  the  harlot  in  every  -community,  women 
ought  to  match  that  demand  with  a  demand  of  their  own,  for 
better  fathers  for  the  children  it  is  demanded  they  shall  bear. 


A  LOVE  STORY  ,  253 

THE  BLACK  PLAGUE. 

BONBORNION,  BUBONIUM,  BUBO,  BUBONIC-PLAGUE,    CANCERS,  TUMORS.  TU- 
BERCULOSIS, INSANITY,  IDIOCY,  IMBECILITY. 

Every  city  has  its  Red  Light  District— its  establishments 
for  sex  sins  and  crimes,  and  so  has  every  little  town.  It  is 
declared  from  all  sorts  of  theological,  legal,  medical,  and  from 
many  lesser  places  that  this  thing  cannot  be  subdued.  That 
is  to  say,  that  establishments  for  sex  vice  must  be  tolerated  be- 
cause they  cannot  be  eradicated.  Women,  to  quiet  them,  are 
taught  they  would  not  be  safe  from  assaults  and  rape,  if  these 
conditions  were  not  permitted  everywhere.  Yet  assaults  and 
rape  and  murder  of  women  and  girls  and  children  increase. 

In  Europe,  sex  vice  is  licensed  just  as  America  licenses 
saloons,  and  on  the  ground  of  public  health  and  propriety.  In 
America  we  do  not  openly  license  the  brothel.  The  matter  is 
winked  at  in  most  small  towns  and  the  harlot  plies  her  trade 
with  her  male  coordinates  unmolested.  In  large  cities  houses  of 
prostitution  are  "pulled"  and  the  proprietors  fined,  then  let  go, 
and  "pulled"  again  and  fined,  which  amounts  to  a  virtual  licens- 
ing of  the  evil.  England  for  years  has  fought  the  contagious 
disease  acts  in  Parliment  for  her  cities  and  her  armies.  It  is 
conceded,  but  for  American  women  who  fought  it,  contagious 
disease  factories  would  be  licensed  with  us. 

Heretofore  it  has  been  taught,  that  the  sex  diseases  can  be 
cured;  but  in  America  there  have  come  great  and  learned  phy- 
sicians who  teach  us  that  the  sex  diseases  are  absolutely  incura- 
ble. One  physician  writing  says,  '  'not  only  are  they  incurable 
in  this  world,  but  they  will  follow  a  man  into  hell  like  a 
shadow".  We  are  now  taught  that  no  woman  is  safe  to  marry 
and  live  with  a  man  who  has  been  infected  with  sex  diseases  at 
any  time,  that  not  only  her  health,  but  her  life  is  at  stake,  and 
the  life  of  her  offspring  as  well.  We  are  taught  there  are  no 
possible  means  for  one  to  discern  when  these  terrible  diseases 
may  attack  the  man,  the  woman  or  the  child.  We  know  a  kiss 
from  a  little  babe  may  engender  it;  that  a  hand  clasp,  a  kiss,  a 
towel,  a  garment,  a  cup,  all  may  communicate  it,  to  one  inno- 
cent of  offense.  No  disease  in  the  whole  category  is  so  horri- 


254  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

ble.  I  know  of  a  case  where  the  sins  of  a  father  came  to  his 
son,  and  long  after  the  flesh  of  the  father  had  gone  to  dust  his 
sins  came  out  in  the  body  of  his  son,  mouldered  his  flesh  from 
his  bones,  gendered  horrible  worms  in  his  flesh  till  his  life  was 
a  living  hell,  and  a  sister  who  attended  him  like  an  angel,  suf- 
fered the  torments  of  the  Inferno  at  her  task. 

A  man  who  much  desired  children  saw  them  die  one  after 
another  in  infancy  and  his  physician  said,  '  'You  will  never  raise 
a  child.  The  sins  of  your  youth  have  murdered  them".  The 
wife  who  bore  them  had  to  be  deceived.  The  man  shed  bitter 
tears  as  his  little  ones  perished  because  of  his  sins. 

I  hear  much  of  the  Bubonic  Plague.  It  travels  from  the 
Orient  this  way,  a  result  of  violations  of  the  law  of  chastity. 
It  is  not  claimed  any  remedy,  or  serum  has  any  effect  upon  it; 
they  aggravate  and  kill  the  subjects  treated  usually;  few  recover. 
Tumors,  Cancers  and  all  the  awful  diseases  keep  step  with  the 
increase  of  sex  diseases.  In  my  opinion,  forms  of  sex  diseases; 
not  the  initial  malady  perhaps,  but  scondary  or  tertiary  or 
later  forms  of  it;  of  this  I  am  convinced,  The  Red  Light  dis- 
tricts get  redder  and  redder,  and  the  little  towns  follow  suit, 
and  the  country  places  which  were  once  comparatively  free 
from  the  horrible  sex  diseases,  are  becoming  honey  combed 
with  them  also.  The  sex  instinct  can  be  controlled.  We  teach 
it  is  uncontrollable.  It  can  be  controlled  because  we  have 
plenty  of  evidence  that  chastity  is  a  conservative  force  of  the 
body;  unchastity  a  destructive  power.  This  is  evidence  of  the 
law  written  in  a  mans'  members  for  chaste  living  and  subjuga- 
tion of  the  sin  and  disease.  Man  has  will  by  which  he  can 
keep  himself  in  check.  There  is  plenty  of  evidence  that  men 
who  are  chaste  are  aided  by  nature  to  a  sound  control  of  the 
functions  of  sex,  and  that  the  man  can  use  will  power. 
Why  is  it  continually  taught  that  man  cannot  control  the  crea- 
tive force?  Why  do  we  teach  by  suggestion,  a  vice  to  man  and 
boy  that  is  destructive;  and  we  teach  women  by  the  same  means 
to  condone  the  evil  that  may  result  in  ruin  to  her  and  her  child- 
ren? And  why  is  the  house  of  prostitution  everywhere  sug- 
gested to  make  our  Red  Light  Districts  everywhere?  Who 
teaches  the  young  chastity?  Who  teaches  the  man  and  woman 
chastity?  Who  teaches  the  City  and  town  chastity?  If  the 


A  LOVE  STORY  255 

Pagan,  Greek  and  Roman  and  Spartan  taught  their  young  inde- 
cency and  sex  vice,  why  cannot  the  Christian,  European,  Amer- 
ican and  Asiatic  teach  their  children  chastity  and  the  awful 
consequences  of  sex  sins,  and  crime?  We  culture  those  vices 
by  declaring  it  is  impossible  to  check  or  end  them.  Animals 
can  be  taught  sex  control;  why  not  men?  Why  are  not  the 
children  in  all  schools  taught  of  chastity?  Much  could  be  placed 
in  books,  and  there  are  those  who  could  write  cleanly  text 
books  on  these  subjects  now.  There  are  also  coming  those  who 
can  instruct  not  only  children,  but  fathers  and  mothers,  on  the 
deeper  matter  of  sex,  if  we  would  have  it  so.  The  matter  can 
be  let  pass  in  disgust,  in  grief,  in  doubt,  but  the  law  of  God 
working  in  a  man  is  evidenced  in  violation  by 

THE  BLACK  PLAGUE  — 

INCURABLE. 

GONORRHEA,  SYPHILIS,   BUBONIC  PLAGUE,  TUMORS,  CANCERS,  TU- 
BERCULOSIS, INSANITY,  IMBECILITY,  IDIOCY;  ALfc  INCURABLE. 

Some  day  we  shall  rise  to  the  knowledge  of  the  truth  in 
this  matter,  and  we  shall  teach.  Then  we  shall  bring  forth 
men  and  women  who  are  Godlike  in  their  altitudes'  and  lives. 
At  present  "We  perish  for  lack  of  knowledge".  We  culture 
everywhere  a  disease,  that  while  a  man  lives  rots  his  bones  in 
his  skin,  and  the  flesh  on  his  bones,  and  worms  gender  and  bur- 
row in  the  tissues,  before  life  is  out  of  them,  and  that  murders 
the  innocent  and  fastens  incurable  diseases  of  all  kinds  upon 
men,  wome,n  and  children. 


256 


A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


TEACHING  LIFE. 


A  boy  of  ten  years,  one  of  my 
own  blood,  asked  me  a  question 
which  indicated  he  was  ripe  for 
instruction  in  the  reproductive 
processes  and  purity.  I  began, 
"In  all  creation  there  is  what 
is  called  a  male  and  female  ele- 
ment. It  is  everywhere— in  the 
plants,  the  trees,  the  animals, 
the  birds,  the  fishes  and  in  Man. 
In  some  things  the  male  and  fe- 
male element  is  in  one  plant  or 
animal,  but  in  the  most  of  things 
there  are  two,  male  and  fe- 
male. Among  the  plants,  life 
dust,  called  pollen,  falls  from 
the  male  upon  the  female  plants; 
the  bees  often  carry  the  life 
dust  or  pollen  from  one  plant 
to  another,  then  seeds  ripen  and 
we  have  new  plants  and  trees 

and  flowers,  if  this  dust  does  not  fall  seeds  cannot  ripen.  In 
animals  and  Man  there  must  be  the  male  and  female  element  or 
there  would  be  no  young.  The  hens  lay  eggs,  but  unless  there 
is  a  male  bird  in  the  chicken  yard,  the  eggs  will  not  hatch".  I 
told  the  child  of  the  egg  laying  species.  I  told  him  of  the  ani- 
mals that  carry  their  young  in  the  body  of  the  female,  includ- 
ing Man.  I  gave  him  the  hatching  and  gestating  periods  of 
each.  I  told  him  of  the  suffering  of  all  female  animals  that 
bear  their  young  in  the  body.  I  told  him  how  life  and  death 
walk  hand  in  hand  together,  and  how  many  mothers,  animal 
and  human  suffered,  and  some  died  in  great  torment  to  bring 
forth  their  young.  I  said,  "You  see  how  much  fathers  an 
mothers  love  their  children  when  they  are  willing  to  risk  their 
lives  to  have  them,  and  how  children  should  love  their  parents 
who  are  willing  to  die  for  them."  I  told  him  how  nearly  his 
own  mother  came  to  dying  for  him,  and  he  loved  his  Mother.  I 


A  LOVE  STORY  257 

could  see  he  was  profoundly  interested.  I  laid  the  seal  of  silence 
on  his  lips.  It  was  a  confidence  that  touched  his  heart.  I 
taught  him  many  other  things,  and  of  chastity  that  day. 

In  these  days  when  there  are  those  who  declare  the  law  of 
Chastity  "nil",  and  when  boys  and  girls  are  bred  in  unchastity, 
and  boys  are  taught  the  practice  of  vice,  when  children  are  bred 
of  wives  many  of  whom  are  untrue,  and  of  men  who  are  unchaste, 
we  look  about  and  find  that  the  insane,  the  imbecile,  the  idiots, 
the  army  of  the  horrible  diseased  and  degenerates,  and  the 
Traffic  in  girls  testify  to  our  ignorance,  and  our  sin  and  crime. 
Our  sins  have  found  us  out,  they  have  come  up  in  frightful  con- 
ditions that  terrify  and  mock  at  us;  the  law  written  in  our  bodies 
and  disobeyed,  has  come,  to  be  revenged.  They  who  have  vio- 
lated God's  laws  of  Purity  have  not  escaped,  and  the  innocent 
suffer  with  the  guilty.  We  need  to  learn  and  teach  and  obey 
the  law,  and  especially  we  need  to  fortify  the  young  with  exact 
knowledge. 

I  taught  this  boy  that  God  who  made  all  things,  and  ordered 
all  things,  also  made  laws  to  protect  His  works,  and  He  made 
the  laws  of  Purity  and  Chastity,  and  that  no  laws  receive  such 
terrible  consequences  when  they  are  broken  as  these  two  laws 
•of  Chastity  and  Purity.  Terrible  diseases  that  are  incurable 
take  hold  of  men  and  women,  the  bones  rot  in  the  skin,  the 
body  rots  and  stinks,  and  is  full  of  worms  before  it  is  dead;  that 
undertakers  fear  to  touch  the  dead  bodies  of  such  people  for 
fear  of  catching  the  disease;  that  no  one  can  tell  who  has  it  at 
first;  that  a  cup,  or  anything  one  of  the  diseased  has  touched 
is  a  danger;  that  a  hand  clasp  or  a  kiss  may  pass  it,  and  that  a 
baby's  kiss  may  set  it  going;  that  men  poison  their  wives;  and 
babies  are  born  that  are  rotten  from  it,  or  dead.  No  disease  is 
so  terrible,  and  God  has  made  it  possible  for  everybody  to  know 
it.  "But",  I  said,  "many  people  do  not  know  these  things, 
but  now  you  do".  I  told  my  lad  that  people  who  break  God's 
laws  of  Chastity  and  Purity  were  everywhere  and  he  should  be- 
ware. "If  you  meet  such  an  one",  I  [said  "draw  yourself  to 
your  full  height,  look  the  offender  in  the  eye  and  say,  'Thank 
you,  I  am  not  of  that  kind',  and  they  will  slink  away;  that  kind 
cannot  stand  a  rebuke".  I  asked  the  boy  if  he  wished  to  ask 
questions  of  me.  I  said  '  'if  ever  you  want  to  know  more  come 


258  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

to  me  and  I  will  tell  you  if  I  know. "  His  curiosity  was  satisfied, 
he  had  much  food  for  profound  thought,  his  confidence  was  won. 
He  asked  no  questions  about  things  we  are  troubled  how  to  an- 
swer, they  seemed  merged  in  the  larger  facts  communicated. 
So  I  taught  life  to  the  child. 

There  is  a  problem—!  have  not  solved.  If  one,  a  man  or 
woman,  lusts  after  another,  seeks  after  "the  precious  life", 
has  an  intense  animality,  has  hypnotic  power,  how  shall  that 
one  lusted  after  escape  not  suspecting  evil?  I  have  asked  many 
Mothers,  but  so  far  no  one  has  answered  me.  The  sex  nature 
moved  upon  by  a  stronger  and  lusting  sex  nature,  what  shall 
save  the  victim  selected,  be  it  boy  or  girl,  man  or  woman?  It 
is  a  terrible  matter,  and  only  one  solution  presents  itself  to  me. 
A  woman  who  had  borne  nine  children  told  me  all  of  them  were 
physically  perfect,  and  otherwise  she  believed,  though  she  had 
endured  many  adventures  during  gestation.  She  said  '  'I  think 
all  that  saved  them  was  the  fact  that  I  Immediately  began  to 
pray  when  I  was  in  danger".  I  believe  God  who  made  us  will 
not  leave  us  alone  in  danger  if  we  call  to  Him.  I  believe  the 
boy  and  girl,  the  man  and  woman,  taught  to  pray  will  have  a 
warning,  and  that  prayer  for  help  will  be  answered  and  the  vic- 
tim saved.  No  other  solution  of  this  problem  presents  itself  to 
me.  We  can  try  it  and  test  it  and  teach  it.  So  let  us  fortify 
our  children  in  Chastity  and  Purity  and  for  the  highest  good, 
and  teach  them  to  pray. 

Children  raised  on  a  farm,  regard  the  laws  of  reproduction 
with  much  matter  of  factness.  They  know  the  value  of  flocks 
and  herds,  the  danger  of  loss.  They  speak  of  the  fact  that  the 
cow,  the  horse,  the  hog  and  the  sheep  will  bring  their  young, 
as  a  matter  of  business  in  which  all  have  a  deep  concern,  and 
they  know  the  need  of  care  for  the  brood  stock,  and  so  false 
modesty  is  not  so  much  known,  and  they  are  modest  as  one 
could  wish  in  speaking  of  things.  But,  after  all,  we  need  to 
think  and  teach  and  pray  over  this  most  important  matter,  and 
teach  in  fullness  and  clearness  in  all  its  ways,  Life,  to  ourselves 
and  to  our  children.  The  earlier  great  truths  are  taught  a  child 
the  better.  We  lose  much  when  we  wait  too  long  to  teach  great 
ideas.  Astronomy,  Physiology,  Zoology,  Botany,  Chemistry, 
Natural  Philosophy  should  be  taught  to  young  children;  we  al- 


A  LOVE  STORY 

ready  teach  Physiology.  In  the  tender  minds  of  children  great 
truths  planted  early,  seem  early  to  ripen  into  great  harvests; 
so  let  us  teach  them  the  great  laws  which  govern  life  very  early. 
And  we  need  to  teach  The  laws  of  life,  from  the  earliest  times 
to  the  child,  in  the  freedom  of  the  Lord. 


260  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

A  NOBLE  LIFE. 

There  were  three  sisters,  beloved, 
And  the  Lord  called  one  away. 
But  the  other  two  were  lifted  up 
Towards  the  light  of  the  Heavenly  day. 

There  was  a  Son,  beloved, 

And  the  Lord  called  his  Mother  away. 

But  he  heard  her  call — 'twas  an  angel's  voice, 

"My  Son,  my  Son  come  this  way". 

There  were  dear  friends,  beloved, 
And  the  Lord  called  one  away, 
But  she  left  the  gift  of  a  noble  life 
To  help  the  rest  on  their  way. 


A  LOVE  STORY  261 

THE  ASSESSOR. 

"Taxation  without  representation  is  tyranny". 

When  the  Assessor  comes  upon  my  Farm  and  says  "How 
many  horses  have  you;  how  many  sheep;  and  how  many 
hogs;  I  heard  you  had  forty  dogs;  and  how  much  farm  ma- 
chinery, and  wagons  and  buggies  and  land,  etc",  I'm  mad!  I 
regard  him  as  an  impertinence  added  to  a  wrong  done  me,  for 
he  is  the  man  the  men  of  the  Township  and  County  and  State 
and  Nation,  send  to  levy  taxes  on  me  when  I  have  no  right  or 
representation,  nor  any  voice  in  saying  what  I  want,  nor  for 
what  my  tax  money  shall  be  used.  I  work  as  hard  as  a  man;  I 
earn  money  like  a  man;  I  bear  the  burdens  of  Community  like 
a  man.  I  am  robbed  as  a  woman!  I  have  no  voice  in  anything 
or  in  saying  how  my  money,  which  I  have  earned,  shall  be 
spent.  The  men  of  Illinois  and  the  United  States  run  their 
hands  into  my  pockets;  take  out  my  hard  earned  money,  and 
say  impertinently,  "What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it,  you 
can't  help  yourself";  and  every  seventy  cents  out  of  every 
dollar,  of  tax  I  am  told  goes  for  war  taxes,  when  there  is  no 
war.  So  I  am  mad  when  the  Assessor,  who  is  the  expression 
of  this  condition,  appears  on  my  Farm.  I'm  provoked  with  a 
just  wrath.  He  is  to  me  the  representative  of  a  Robber  Sys- 
tem which  men  practice  upon  women.  I  went  to  a  good  roads 
meeting  one  day,  when  it  was  proposed  to  levy  a  tax  to  build 
roads  at  $6000,  or  more  a  mile,  and  I  asked  where  the  women 
came  in?  One  man  said  "that's  not  the  question"  which  was 
true,  and  a  buzz  ran  round,  my  interuption  was  considered  im- 
pertinent, but  I  told  them  unless  the  women  were  allowed  to  vote 
on  that  tax  they  were  committing  Robbery.  The  speaker  said 
he  did  not  object  to  women  voting  and  was  willing  for  a  Con- 
stitutional amendment,  but  I  could  see  the  most  of  the  crowd 
were  willing  to  rob  the  women. 

A  thief  knocks  me  down  and  robs  me,  contrary  to  law,  but 
the  Assessor,  who  represents  the  male  voter,  comes  along  and 
I  am  robbed,  according  to  law.  Now  I  respect  the  thief  who 
owns  he  is  a  thief;  but  the  thieves  who  profess  to  be  honest 
citizens  and  who  rob  me  according  to  law,  in  City  and  on  Farm, 


262  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

I  am  in  wrath  with.  In  town  they  assess  me  for  paved  streets, 
and  lie  to  justify  the  robbery,  having  prepared  witnesses  against 
me  and  other  women,  and  selling  our  property  and  leaving  some 
of  us  homeless  as  a  result  of  this  iniquity.  I  knew  a  widow  who 
raised  a  big  family  and  worked  hard.  She  was  assessed  and 
sold  out,  for  the  property  was  not  increased  in  value  and  she 
had  no  money  to  save  herself.  But  by  perjured  lies  the  men 
swore  her  out  of  house  and  home,  and  she  had  no  recourse,  and 
she  could  go  to  the  poor  house  if  she  was  not  able  to  work. 
Roads  always  were  built  out  of  the  flesh  and  blood  of  men  and 
women,  and  the  tale  of  the  consequences  is  told  in  the  old  re- 
mains of  the  magnificent  roads  the  Romans  built  all  over  the 
Roman  Empire.  The  Romans,  where  are  they?  Their  old 
roads  are  a  record  of  their  wickedness.  And  if  American  men 
continue  to  rob  women  and  children  and  their  poor  brothers, 
the  same  power  that  finished  the  Roman  and  his  roads  will 
settle  with  them. 

So  the  Assessor,  who  represents  a  wrong  and  an  iniquity, 
makes  me  full  of  wrath  when  he  appears,  and  I  tell  him  he  has 
no  right  to  assess  me  at  all,  nor  should  taxes  be  collected  from 
me. 

I  admire  Julia  Smith  who  allowed  her  property  to  be  sold 
year  after  year  to  record  her  protest  against  this  wrong.  It  is 
no  wonder  she  was  able  to  translate  the  whole  Bible  unaided; 
I  know  she  did  for  I  own  a  copy  of  her  Bible  from  the  original, 
it  was  a  task  no  man  was  ever  equal  to.  I  am  hand  in  glove 
with  the  women  of  Chicago  who  refuse  to  pay  taxes,  and  who 
protest  everywhere,  and  I  marvel,  all  women  tax  payers  do  not 
arise  and  storm  the  State  and  National  Legislatures  in  protest, 
for  the  protection  of  the  ballot  and  to  save  the  property  they 
worked  so  hard  to  make  homes  of.  No,  I  don't  like  to  see  the 
Assessor  on  my  farm,  it  makes  me  mad. 


A  LOVE  STORY  263 

BEFORE  THE  BOARD  OF  REVIEW. 

In  Illinois  we  have  what  is  called  a  Board  of  Review.  This 
is  a  species  of  Inquisitional  body  in  each  county,  that  has  power 
to  call  before  it  whomsoever  it  pleases,  and  examine  their  financial 
affairs  and  raise  their  taxes.  I  have  heard  many  things  told 
of  what  the  Board  of  Review  of  my  County  did  to  others,  but  I 
will  tell  my  experience  the  two  times  I  was  called  up. 

My  first  experience  was  before  the  Board  when  the  Chief 
Inquisitor  was  named  George.  He  hailed  from  a  land  where  they 
say  "orse"  and  "ow"  for  horse  and  how.  He  began  in  this  . 
wise,  "Ant  you  got  a  lot  of  fine  furnisure,  Mis  Kepley?"  An- 
swer— '  'No,  and  I  never  owned  any  fine  furniture.  I  do  not 
throw  out  nor  burn  up  my  stuff,  and  what  I  have  is  old— I  have 
owned  it  a  number  of  years".  "Well  now,  Mis  Kepley,  ant  you 
got  a  orse  up  ere  you  didn't  pay  taxes  on  at  your  farm"?  An- 
swer— "No,  I  haven't.  My  horses  and  the  rest  of  my  stock  are 
all  listed;  taxed  and  paid  for  in  Mason  township  where  my  farm 
is.  Do  you  want  to  see  my  tax  receipt?  Dannie,  the  horse  I 
have  here,  was  not  brought  to  this  town  till  after  the  corn  was 
laid  by".  And  he  didn't  want  to  see  the  tax  receipts,  and  that 
was  all.  I  said  to  myself  '  'Here  you  are,  a  tax  paying  citizen 
and  you  are  dragged  up  before  "George*",— I  do  not  know  if  he 
was  the  3rd  or  4th  of  the  reigning  class— and  quizzed  like  that, 
and  more  taxes  if  possible  stuck  on  you.  You  haven't  a  ballot 
or  a  say-so  any  more  than  the  colonists  had".  And  I  was  as 
mad  at  that  Board  of  Review  and  this  "George"  as  the  colonists 
were  in  their  day  at  that  old  Tyrant  George  the  4th  who  taxed 
them  to  the  top  notch  and  refused  them  representation ;  my  taxes 
were  raised. 

The  second  time  I  was  called  it  was  to  increase  my  taxes 
without  an  increase  of  my  property.  I  took  my  lawyer,  but 
they  stuck  me.  Widows  seem  to  be  in  the  eye  of  the  Board  of 
Review  like  the  colonists  were  to  old  George  4th  Rex. 

It  is  an  outrage  and  a  shame.  Indians,  negros,  foreign 
people,  drunkards,  paupers,  rascals,  convicts  pardoned  out  of 
the  Penitentiary  so  they  will  not  lose  their  ballots,  and  all  men 
vote,  and  we  women  pay  taxes  and  have  no  vote.  I  do  not 
think  well  of  the  men  of  Illinois  or  of  any  state  who  do  women 


264 


like  that.  There  are  now  six  states  where  men  are  just  enough 
and  honorable  enough  to  give  women  the  ballot.  Maybe  the 
men  in  the  rest  of  the  United  States  will  become  honorable 
enough  to  do  the  same  after  a  while. 

I  had  a  friend,  a  Widow,  who  was  likewise  ordered  before 
the  Board  of  Review  and  "George"  to  be  examined.  She  was 
quizzed  about  her  son.  "Ant  your  Son  got  a  orse  and  buggy? 
He  has  not  reported  any."  "Answer"— No,  he  is  a  poor  man. 
All  he  owns  is  that  little  store.  He  can't  afford  to  own  ahorse 
and  buggy".  King  George,  "That's  strange".  And  the  quiz 
ended. 

The  prophets  told  the  ancient  people  to  "howl",  when  ar- 
ticulate language  failed  to  express  their  feelings,  and  I'd  have 
to  howl  to  express  mine  on  this  subject.  Free  born  American 
Mothers  and  citizen  widows  denied  the  ballot  in  a  free  country, 
and  a  man  who  couldn't  speak  the  vernacular,  born  in  a  foreign 
land,  they  are  haled  before,  and  then  taxed  to  help  pay  the 
large  per  diem  allowed  him  and  others  who  sit  on  them. 

I  wish  the  women  of  the  states  would  do  like  the  women 
of  Schorndorf ,  drop  their  household  affairs  and  march  upon  men 
who  refuse  to  give  them  their  rights  and  bring  them  to  time. 
It  could  be  done  if  women  had  enough  pluck;  and  conditions 
are  bad  enough  to  stir  women  to  do  something  so  that  they 
might  come  before  Boards  of  Review  justly  and  not  unlawfully 
as  now,  to  be  retaxed.  The  English  women  smash  windows 
and  go  to  prison  in  protest  to  their  wrongs,  and  American  women 
may  have  to  do  that  too  in  some  of  the  States  of  the  Union. 


A  LOVE  STORY  265 

A  SUFFRAGIST. 

I  have  been  a  suffragist  all  my  life  because  I  have  a  strong" 
sense  of  justice.  I  have  friends  who  are  Democrats  and  Re- 
publicans politically,  but  I  would  never  belong  to  a  political 
organization  that  did  not  declare  for  the  ballot  for  women,  for 
it  is  rank  injustice  to  them,  and  to  join  with  those  who  are  un- 
just is  wrong.  I  deride  women  who  belong  to  political  organ- 
izations which  vote  them  lower  than  the  male  drunkard,  the 
pauper,  the  thief,  the  rascal,  the  negro,  the  Indian  and  the 
convict  just  pardoned  out  of  penitentiary  to  save  his  vote. 

I  became  a  member  of  the  Prohibition  Party  in  1881.  I  left 
it  when  they  threw  the  woman's  ballot  plank  out,  and  did  not 
return  till  it  was  replaced. 

I  have  agitated  the  question  of  the  ballot  for  women  all  my 
life.  I  have  argued  for  it  "in  season  and  out  of  season"  as  we 
are  instructed  to  do.  I  have  made  some  "very  tired"  and  have 
been  advised  to  hire  a  hall  for  my  expositions  sometimes. 

A  new  Minister  came  to  Effingham  and  was  quite  distressed 
when  the  question  struck  him,  that  "our  women"  wanted  the 
ballot,  and  he  set  to  work  to  combat  it— dear  man!  He 
preached  a  sermon  on  the  awful  punishment  of  leprosy  sent  on 
Miriam,  for  attempting  to  meddle  in  Governmental  affairs  with 
Aaron  and  Moses.  He  made  his  women  members  mad,  and 
some  of  them  said  things.  I  invited  him  to  repeat  his  sermon 
at  The  Temple;  he  had  a  nice  audience  and  was  well  treated, 
but  I  took  opportunity  at  the  social  hour  to  say,  "Now  Brother 
M.  I  never  knew  God  sent  leprosy  as  a  punishment  to  Miriam 
for  working  with  Aaron  and  Moses  in  the  Government  of 
Israel. ' '  '  'Well,  what  was  it  then  ?' '  said  he.  '  'Well,  I  thought 
it  was  because  she  and  Aaron  tried  to  stir  up  the  people  against 
Moses  because  he  had  a  black  wife."  "Oh,  that's  the  way  you 
explain  it".  "Well,  that  is  what  the  Bible  says."  Men  and 
women  are  too  much  given  to  taking  the  opinions  of  Theologues 
instead  of  the  Word  itself, 

Another  time  he  and  I  were  holding  the  pulpit  at  a  Church, 
and  I  spoke  on  the  need  of  the  ballot  forwomen  to  protect  their 
children  and  their  homes.  He  asked  me  rather  quizzically  at 
the  close,  how  I  explained  what  St.  Paul  said  about  women.  I 


266  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

said  St.  Paul  declares  many  thing  he  says  are  not  the  law;  that 
what  he  said  was  his  opinion  under  the  circumstances.  "Oh, 
that  is  the  way  you  explain  it"?  "No,  St.  Paul  said  it".  I 
love  St.  Paul;  he  was  scoffed  at,  so  was  I;  he  was  beaten,  I  was 
beaten;  he  was  martyred,  I  was  shot  at  for  my  life.  When  Paul 
heard  the  Macedonian  cry  "Come  help  us"  in  his  vision,  he  was 
obedient.  It  seems  the  cry  came  from  women,  for  when  he 
went  to  Macedonia  he  went  to  the  river  side  where  prayer  was 
wont  to  be  made,  and  there  he  only  found  women.  Lydia,  a 
rich  widow,  a  merchant,  a  seller  of  purple  and  fine  linen,  was 
his  first  Convert  with  all  her  household,  and  the  work  began 
that  grew  so  grandly,  to  success,  out  of  his  vision,  and  his  call, 
and  the  women. 

Jn  Hebrews  Paul  gives  us  a  letter  full  of  gratitude  and 
praise  and  exaltation  of  women,  and  he  sends  this  letter  by 
Phebe,  and  instructs  the  Church  at  Cenchrea  to  do  as  she  bade 
them.  Paul  was  a  just  man;  he  was  just  to  women. 

I  often  think  of  an  old  Mother  in  Israel  of  the  city  of  Abel, 
who  saved  the  whole  city  and  the  people  from  destruction. 
David  sent  Joab  to  catch  one  Sheba,  a  rascal  who  fled  to  the 
City  of  Abel  for  safety.  The  men  of  the  city  shut  the  gates  and 
prepared  to  protect  the  law  breaker  as  they  do  now,  many 
Of  them.  Joab  rigged  up  a  battering  ram  and  prepared  to  raze 
the  city  walls,  and  destroy  the  inhabitants  thereof,  when  the 
head  of  a  woman  appeared  at  the  top  of  the  wall  and  she  de- 
manded to  know  why  Joab  proposed  to  batter  down  the  walls 
and  destroy  all  the  people,  and  her  a  "Mother  in  Israel." '  And 
she  reminded  him  that  it  was  written  that  "at  Abel,  counsel 
was  to  be  taken."  Joab  made  argument  with  her,  and  she 
said  "What  is  it  you  demand?"  And  he  said,  "I  want  the 
head  of  Sheba  thrown  over  the  walls  to  me  by  tomorrow  morn- 
ing, and  I  will  spare  the  City."  This  woman  went  to  the 
Rulers  of  the  City  with  "her  wisdom",  says  The  Word,  and 
Sheba' s  head  was  cast  over  the  wall  the  next  morning  and  Joab 
went  away  satisfied,  and  the  City  was  saved.  To  this  day  no 
one  knows  that  woman's  name.  I  never  heard  anyone  tell  her 
story  but  myself,  in  all  the  years  of  my  life.  Justice  was  done 
through  this  woman.  There  is  much  unworked  ground  in  The 
Bible  on  the  Woman  Question. 


A  LOVE  STORY  267 

Once  conversing  with  a  Catholic  Priest  I  happened  to  spealc 
of  "Women  filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost".  His  hands  went  up  in 
the  air,  and  he  exclaimed  with  a  sort  of  horror,  '  'Women  filled 
with  the  Holy  Ghost"!  "Yes",  I  said.  Now  I  was  rather 
surprised,  for  our  Catholic  Brethren  of  the  Church  claim  to 
know  the  Bible  better  than  anybody.  I  said  "Do  you  remem- 
ber when  the  Apostles  gathered  in  the  upper  room  at  Jerusalem 
waiting  for  the  outpouring  of  the  Holy  Ghost?"  "Oh,  yes"  he 
remembered  that.  "And  you  remember  the  names  of  part  of 
the  men  are  mentioned,  and  also  the  names  of  some  of  the1 
women"?  "Yes".  Now  he  had  been  quoting  St.  Paul  like  my 
Protestant  brother,  so  I  said  to  him,  "Now  I  will  take  Peter, 
instead  of  Paul,  for  "on  that  rock  you  build  your  Church." 
Peter  said  when  the  Holy  Ghost  was  poured  out,  'This  is  in  ful- 
fillment of  the  prophecy  of  Joel.  In  the  last  days  saith  the 
Lord  I  will  pour  out  of  my  spirit  on  all  flesh,  and  your  old  men 
shall  dream  dreams;  your  young  men  shall  see  visions,  and  your 
women  shall  prophecy,'  '  well,  he  had  nothing  further  to  say; 
he  may  be  meditating  on  that  question  yet  for  all  I  know. 

I  once  canvassed  the  State  of  Illinois  and  obtained  40,000 
names  to  a  petition  to  the  Legislature  asking  for  the  submission 
of  an  Amendment  to  the  Constitution  giving  women  the  ballot. 
That  is  the  only  way  we  can  obtain  the  full  ballot  in  Illinois. 
At  the  head  of  each  petition,  and  on  the  envelope  which  con- 
tained it,  I  placed  the  name  of  the  Senator  or  Representative 
it  went  to,  and  his  Congressional  and  Legislative  districts,  and 
his  County; 'it  was  a  Syllabus  of  the  contents.  Each  day  the 
petitions  were  read  by  the  Clerk  of  each  House;  they  were  read 
off  as  a  part  of  the  day's  business,  and  the  newspapers  so  noted 
the  matter. 

It  made  much  agitation.  I  was  told  it  was  folly  to  expect 
the  submission  of  such  an  Amendment;  that  many  other 
Amendments  would  be  run  in,  and  some  other  would  be  sub- 
mitted. At  least  a  dozen  were  proposed,  but  no  Amendment 
whatever  was  submitted  to  the  people  that  year. 

The  Legislature  did  not  dare  to  scorn  the  forty  thousand 
names  of  their  people,  democrats,  republicans,  prohibitionists 
and  socialists,  so  they  escaped  by  submitting  none.  It  was  a 
victory  in  a  sense  and  the  campaigning  and  signing  of  the 


268  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

/ 

petitions  was  a  tremendous  agitation  through  the  whole  state 
and  did  us  good  in  Illinois,  and  hastened  the  day  when  women 
citizens  shall  have  justice  done  them.  This  Petition  was 
mothered  by  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  and  carried  by  them  through  the 
state. 

In  carrying  petitions  I  find  friends  when  least  expected, 
and  enemies  when  I  thought  we  had  friends.  These  last  I  badger 
to  my  hearts  content,  and  run  them  to  the  wall  every  time  for 
they  are  in  the  wrong.  Such  work  is  very  healthy,  pros  and 
antis  enjoying  it,  we  lose  nothing  by  doing  it  nor  do  the 
enemy,  we  do  them  good. 

Always  some  converts  are  made  and  many  are  set  to  think- 
ing. I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  studying  for  a  degree  when  I  get 
through  a  task  of  this  kind,  and  it  seems  to  me  I  have  learned 
enough  to  deserve  one.  It  is  healthy  to  be  just,  and  to  seek  to  do 
justice,  so  one  wins  in  that  direction  too. 

Mr.  Kepley  gave  me  three  volumes  of  the  History  of  the 
Suffrage  Movement,  by  Mrs.  Cady  Stanton,  Susan  B.  Anthony, 
et  al.  Mrs.  Stanton  made  me  a  gift  of  her  Biography,  and  I 
have  a  stock  of  books  and  pamphlets  and  my  Bible.  Susan  Anthony 
and  I  often  wrote  to  each  other  and  she  has  been  in  my  home. 
Susan  had  such  a  devout  faith  in  the  Rupublican  party,  but  I, 
alas,  had  none,  and  it  seems  her  faith  was  not  soundly  grounded 
for  it  has  been  men  of  all  parties  who  are  growing  just  to  women. 
She  and  I  argued  the  matter  quite  a  bit.  I  tell  the  men  of  Eff- 
ingham,  "we  women,  when  we  get  the  ballot,  can  beat  any  ini- 
quitous measure  you  men  put  up,  and  we  can  do  it  in  the  State 
and  Nation,  and  I  think  we  will.  The  ballot  draws  near  to  us. 
I'd  like  to  campaign  with  the  English  women,  yes  with  the 
Militants,  and  with  the  women  of  every  state,  but  I  feel  I  do  not 
lose  time  when  I  work  as  hard  as  a  man  farmer,  am  as  suc- 
cessful as  a  man  farmer,  and  then  am  taxed  unjustly,  and  when  I 
raise  my  voice  in  protest  to  this  injustice  to  myself  and  to  other 
women  who  labor  as  hard.  Things  go  fairly  well.  It  breaks 
an  Anti  all  up  to  be  told  that  for  forty  years  or  more  the  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States  has  had  the  ballots  of  women  to  help 
elect  him.  I  honor  the  men  of  Wyoming,  Colorado,  Utah,  Idaho, 
Washington  and  now  of  California  who  do  justice  to  their 
women  and  rate  them  as  high  as  Indian?,  Negros,  drunkards, 


A  LOVE  STORY  269 

paupers,  rascals  or  convicts.  I  do  not  see  why  the  men  of  Illi- 
nois and  all  the  other  States  of  the  Union,  do  not  do  justice  to 
their  women  and  enfranchise  them,  and  give  them  an  equal 
chance  to  hold  their  own,  their  homes  and  their  children's  wel- 
fare against  the  debased  classes  of  men.  Even  the  wretched 
harlot  needs  the  ballot  to  save  her.  Men  need  the  ballot  for 
women  as  much  as  for  their  own  welfare,  as  for  the  woman's. 
"Let  justice  be  done  though  the  Heavens  fall",  and  they  will 
not  fall  except  they  come  down  the  earth  to  bless  us. 

One  might  mention  the  great  and  good  who  have  stood  for 
the  enfranchisement  of  women,  but  after  all  justice  is  the  great 
attribute  of  God,  and  He  creates  us  to  demand  it,  to  do  His  ser- 
vice. Hence,  I  am,  always  was,  and  always  will  be,  a  Suffra- 
gist, and  hope  the  day  is  not  far  off  when  the  men  of  all  the 
States  will  let  their  women  vote,  and  do  justice  to  them. 

I  wrote  the  following  song  and  taught  my  children  to  sing 
it.  I  wished  them  to  know  the  injustice  their  Mothers  suffered 
from. 


270  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

OH,  MOTHER  DEAR  YOU  OUGHT  TO  VOTE. 

*        TUNE-"WEARIN  OF  THE  GREEN''. 

Oh!  Mother  dear,  and  did  you  hear 

The  news  that's  moving  round, 
The  vile  saloons  are  going  to  be 

Set  up  in  our  town. 
The  men  have  voted  them  to  come 

And  stay  among  us  here, 
No  matter  if  it  spoils  or  kills 

Your  darling  children  dear. 

CHORUS. 

Oh  Mother  dear,  you  ought  to  vote, 

And  keep  that  curse  away, 
You  ought  to  vote,  you  ought  to  vote, 

And  then  you'd  have  your  say, 
The  same  as  any  man  in  town, 

Who  cast  his  vote  to  say — 
That  you  and  all  your  children  dear 

In  pain  for  rum  must  pay. 

We  know  you  love  your  children  dear, 

For  us  you'd  give  your  life, 
And  to  our  father  you  have  been 

A  faithful  loving  wife; 
You  toiled  and  labored  night  and  day 

To  keep  us  good  and  true, 
And  now  the  men  have  voted  in 

The  vile  saloons  on  you. 

CHO.— Oh!  mother  dear,  etc. 

You  know  that  once  we  suffered  much, 

For  father  went  away— 
He  had  the  curse  of  drink  on  him, 

We  felt  it  night  and  day, 
In  vile  saloons  he  spent  his  time, 

With  wicked  men  he'd  stay, 


A  LOVE  STORY  271 

We  wept,  we  froze,  we  starved,  we  prayed 
In  misery  each  day. 

CHO.— Oh!  mother  dear,  etc. 

I  saw  old  Paddy  Flannigan 

A  leanin  'gainst  a  house, 
He  hasn't  got  a  foot  of  land 

No  more  than  any  mouse  — 
He  always  loafs  in  beer  saloons, 

He  drinks,  he  swears,  he  fights, 
He's  got  what  you've  not,  mother  dear, 

He's  got  his  VOTING  RIGHTS. 

CHO.— Oh!  mother  dear,  etc. 

And  there  was  Jakie  Hardikop, 

And  Tony  Mafia, 

And  Pete,  the  man  with  yellow  hair,  from' 
Scandanavia — 

And  old  man  Jones 
From  way  down  South, 

As  black  as  any  pot, 
Who  all  hang  'round  the  old  saloons 

To  spend  all  they  have  got. 

CHO.— Oh!  mother  dear,  etc. 

And  snub-nosed  Nickie  Moskowitz, 

And  Polack  Poliskow, 
And  men  from  every  land  and  clime, 

Can  vote  just  here  and  now; 
The  red  man  from  the  Western  plains 

Can  cast  a  ballot  too, 
I  think  it's  awful  that  the  men 

Should  keep  your  vote  from  you. 

CHO.  — Oh!  mother  dear,  etc. 


272  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

Oh!  yes,  the  loafers,  one  and  all, 

Can  vote*saloons  in  here, 
I'd  like  to  know  the  reason  why 

My  faithful  mother  dear, 
You  toil,  and  save,  and  teach,  and  pray, 

You  pay  your  share  of  tax, 
I'd  like  to  knowfjust  how  the  men 

Dare  take  your  vote  from  you. 

CHO.— Oh!  mother  dear,  etc. 

Oh!  mother,  when  I  see  the  Flag, 

The  emblem  of  the  free, 
I  wonder  how  that  any  man 

Can  keep  thy  vote  from  thee. 
The  country's  topsy  turvy  sure, 

The  people  cry  for  bread, 
God  hears  the  suffering  women  cry — 

He  says  my  curse  is  sped. 

CHO.  — Oh  mother  dear,  etc. 


A  LOVE  STORY  273 

• 

NEWSPAPER  WORK. 

In  the  year  1885  in  December,  I  began  the  publication  of  a 
little  monthly  paper  called  ''The  Friend  of  Home".  It  was  born 
at  a  conference  of  temperance  workers  which  included  a  Bap- 
tist, a  Methodist,  a  Christian,  and  a  Unitarian;  three  men  and 
one  woman.  It  was  decided  Effingham  County,  Illinois,  needed 
a  temperance  paper,  and  it  was  born  and  named.  I  was  made 
the  Editor  and  the  first  number  issued. 

The  County  of  Effingham  had  about  twenty  thousand  people 
many  of  whom  were  German  Catholics  and  Lutherans,  who 
thought  the  saloon  was  all  right.  We  had  many  people  who 
were  dominant  politically,  and  who  were  known  as  "Red  Bush- 
ers,  and  Whiskey,  and  Bull  Flatters".  They  had  emigrated 
from  the  South  in  an  early  day  and  had  always  thought  drink 
necessary  to  their  existence,  and  the  saloon  was  their  favorite 
camping  spot  when  coming  to  town.  We  had  the  usual  quota 
of  men  and  women  who  were  inert,  or  who  stood  with  the  liquor 
element.  Ten  German  Catholic  Churches  and  ten  German  Lu- 
theran Churches  were  solidly  against  us.  These  were  largely 
of  the  Agricultural  class,  set  in  their  opinions  and  slow  to 
change;  declaring  for  moderation;  good  people,  but  not  awake, 
and  wrong  on  this  vital  question  of  Temperance,  Total  Absti- 
nence, and  Prohibition. 

Politically  the  saloon  was  dominant.  No  man  ever  obtained 
an  office  in  Effingham  County  except  he  paid  tribute  to  the  sa- 
loons. If  he  had  to  be  careful  of  both  sides,  saloon  and  temper- 
ance, there  were  always  men  to  be  found  who  could  be  sent  to 
doubtful  quarters  to  swear  he  was  sound  and  say,  "He  drank 
with  me,  or  he  is  all  right  on  temperance,  and  tell  things  to  "fix 
up  his  fences",  but  he  has  to  be  careful,  he  is  all  right,";  and 
so  the  saloon  took  toll  of  all  and  dominated  all.  Many  feared 
to  lose  a  dollar,  and  they  kept  still  and  clogged  the  way. 

I  never  did  believe  in  fooling  away  time,  so  I  began  the 
best  I  knew  how  to  wage  a  radical  war  on  Saloons,  Saloon  pe- 
titioners, bondsmen,  voters,  drinkers  and  drunkards.  I  pub- 
lished the  names  of  all  I  could  find,  engaged  in  keeping  up  or 
bracing  up  saloons.  Samuel  Boles,  Horace  Greely  and  Wilbur 
Story,  I  regarded  as  model  editors  and  I  patterned  after  them 


274  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

as  well  as  I  could.  I  published  Common  evils  before  Tarbell. 
Lawson,  Hurst,  Munsey,  Everybody's,  et  al.  I  became 
a  deeply  despised  individual.  One  local  paper  "raked  me" 
regularly.  I  hit  back,  of  course,  but  it  was  four  to  my  one 
for  The  Friend  of  Home  was  a  monthly  paper,  but  I 
tried  to  make  it  count.  I  had  occasional  attacks  from  other  pa- 
pers; some  stood  by  in  silence;  one  never  feared  to  say  a  good 
word  for  me  in  a  round  about  way.  I  was  whipped  twice  by 
saloon  keepers;  I  was  shot  at  by  the  son  of  a  saloon  keeper;  I 
was  reviled  in  all  sorts  of  places;  there  was  a  feeling  about  that 
I  would  be  killed.  I  am  certain  many  at  that  time  would  have 
enjoyed  attending  my  funeral. 

I  did  not  forget  '  'He  who  lays  his  hand  to  the  plough  must 
not  look  back";  I  remembered  Lovejoy;  I  remembered  "Lay  on 
McDuff  and  damned  be  he  who  first  says  hold  enough."  I  said 
"If  I  am  killed  the  saloon  will  close  in  this  County.  The  price 
is  not  too  high."  I  remembered  I  was  no  better  than  the  mar- 
tyrs and  the  saints,  who  gave  their  lives  for  the  sake  of  right- 
eousness, and  I  forged  ahead  as  best  I  could.  Socially,  me  and 
mine  were  ostracised.  That  which  hurt  me  most  was  that 
others  had  to  be  punished  for  me.  But  the  one  who  suffered 
most— my  Husband— kept  still,  and  I  kept  on,  but  I  shed  many 
bitter  tears  and  I  called  on  God  continually  f Or  help,  for  I  surely 
needed  it. 

I  publishedjthe  names  on  our  six  saloon  petitions.  These 
were  supposed  to  be  a  majority  of  the  legal  voters  of  the  town- 
ship where  the  saloons  were.  My!  what  an  outrage,  and  what 
an  uproar.  There  were  Church  rows,  family  quarrels,  neigh- 
borhood rackets,  etc,  for  I  caught  all  sorts  on  these  petitions. 
Everybody  had  something  to  talk  about  and  there  was  much 
jibing  and  joking,  which  is  awful  sometimes,  especially  when  a 
Church  member  was  caught  on  a  document  like  that,  or  a  man 
who  played  temperance,  or  one  whose  wife  was  temperance  and 
thought  her  husband  was.  I  always  called  a  saloon  a  '  'Hell 
Hole"  and  everybody's  name  was  under  that.  I  finally  broke 
up  the  saloons  on  petition  as  men  would  no  longer  sign  these 
documents.  It  was  a  custom  to  take  the  saloon  petition  to 
Church  to  get  signatures.  When  Saloons  broke  up  on  petition, 
men  organized  the  settlement  as  a  municipality  and  kept  the 


A  LOVE  STORY  275 

saloons;  several  places  had  not  enough  inhabitants  and  they 
even  undertook  to  take  in  some  of  the  farms  to  get  enough 
people,  and  there  was  a  big  row,  for  the  farmers  refused  to  pay 
town  taxes;  but  they  fixed  it  up  somehow  finally;  and  kept  their 
saloons.  Shumway,  a  small  town  in  the  county  held  out  on  pe- 
titions the  longest.  I  finally  broke  them  up  by  publishing  a  bio- 
graphical sketch  of  all  the  saloon  petitioners,  which  I  made 
after  careful  inquiry  and  certification  of  the  correctness  of  the 
same.  It  was  severe  and  funny  too,  and  no  one  would  ever 
again  sign  a  Shumway  saloon  petition,  so  they  organized  as  a 
village.  They  had  a  red  headed  German  M.  E.  Preacher  there 
once.  He  did  fine  work  but  he  was  moved  on  to  another  place, 
and  those  who  came  later  feared,  and  they  had  suffered  in 
other  states  in  temperance  fights. 

Petitions  for  saloons  ended  in  Effingham  County.  The  fight 
was  an  educational  one.  A  German  man  said  to  me  some  years 
after  this  fight,  "Do  you  know  I  was  once  so  mad  at  you  I 
wanted  to  kill  you"?  "No"  I  said,  "what  had  I  been  doing  to 
you"?  "Oh",  he  said  with  a  laugh,  "you  said  some  things  of 
me,  but  the  madder  I  got  and  the  more  I  thought,  the  more  I 
saw  you  were  right  and  I  was  wrong";  and  at  that  time  he  had 
grown  to  be  a  Prohibitionist.  His  wife  was  an  ardent  member 
of  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  and  his  children  were  all  pledged  and  work- 
ers. He  was  of  the  German  M.  E.'s  and  the  red  headed 
preacher  had  no  doubt  prodded  his  conscience  with  my  lance. 

When  I  found  men  drunk  I  published  their  names,  high  or 
low  though  they  were.  I  published  the  saloon  men  who  sold  to 
them.  I  denounced  the  men  who  voted  for  saloons.  I  published 
railroad  men,  until  their  women  were  afraid  to  talk  to  or  to  be 
seen  talking  to  me.  I  knew  of  men  who  were  dragged  from  their 
beds  drunk,  and  put  on  their  engines,  and  firemen  sometimes  ran 
passenger  trains;  but  that  man  would  lose  his  job  if  found  out, 
and  that  would  be  awful.  I  said  to  one  who  reproached  me,  "I 
read  the  other  day  of  a  passenger  train  loaded  heavily  that  was 
wrecked  and  the  most  of  the  passengers  were  roasted  alive. 
The  cause  was  a  drinking  engineer.  One  man  had  better  lose 
his  job  than  twenty  men  and  women  be  roasted  alive".  And 
so  I  shut  them  up,  and  life  was  safer  I  think,  because  of  The 
Friend  of  Home. 


276  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

I  broke  up  the  robbing  of  railroad  men  in  saloons  by  pub- 
lishing an  account  of  how  meal  books  were  used  for  gambling 
and  drinking,  instead  of  for  food,  and  railroad  men  gave  me  the 
information.  I  made  a  statement  to  the  Manager  of  the  Van- 
dalia  Railroad  that  brought  an  official  order  that  broke  it  up  in 
toto.  I  lost  more  than  one  drinking  Railroad  man  his  job,  and 
brought  some  of  the  local  officials  on  the  "green  carpet".  I  had 
once  to  call  the  town  Marshall  to  take  a  Railroad  Man,  that  stop- 
ped me  on  the  street  and  threatened  to  smash  my  face. 

The  day  the  Friend  of  Home  was  issued  the  town  was  in  a 
buzz.  It  seemed  to  me  sometimes  I  could  smell  sulphur  and  see 
blue  blazes.  I  hated  to  go  on  the  street;  there  was  such  feeling; 
I  would  rather  have  been  like  Phil  Sheridan  "twenty  miles 
away",  but  I  had  to  face  my  own  music.  Ridicule  and  contempt 
were  poured  upon  me.  I  was  published  as  the  '  'laughing  stock 
of  the  County".  I  guess  I  was  too,  but  "he  who  laughs 
last  laughs  best";  I  laughed  last,  I  always  took  my  Bible  at 
such  times  and  hunted  for  a  defence,  and  I  usually  found  it, 
and  took  comfort  too.  I  found  the  Apostle  Paul  had  been  in 
just  such  straits,  since  he  wrote  in  his  own  defence  this:  "lam 
a  fool  for  Christ's  sake".  "As  a  fool  receive  me."  By  the 
foolishness  of  preaching,  many  are  converted."  I  said,  "Who 
can  understand  what  the  early  Christians  felt  when  beaten,  ex- 
cept one  who  has  also  been  beaten  for  righteousness  sake"? 
When  my  life  was  attempted  I  remembered  the  martyrs  and 
saints,  and  I  felt  I  was  near  to  them  and  understood  them,  be- 
cause I  had  been  brought  to  face  death  also.  So  I  took  comfort 
and  strength  and  went  forward  after  every  entrenchment  of 
the  saloon,  the  priest,  the  preacher,  the  Church  member,  the 
voter,  the  drunkard,  anybody  who  upheld  the  saloon,  I  was 
threatened  with  all  sorts  of  things;  once  I  was  arrested,  once  at 
the  instance  of  a  saloon  keeper,  but  I  beat  him  on  trial. 

A  man  who  had  lain  drunk  in  the  streets  of  his  village  came 
to  threaten  me,  with  a  J.  P.  with  him.  Poor  fellow!  he  died 
of  his  drinking  finally  and  was  buried  by  the  County,  and  his 
poor  wife  who  stuck  to  him  is  a  County  charge,  and  yet,  he 
was  once  a  good  citizen.  And  that  is  the  fate  that  has  over- 
taken so  many  of  our  drinkers.  A  saloon  keeper  sent  a  J.  P. 
to  see  me  about  an  item  I  used  concerning  the  way  he  adult- 


A  LOVE  STORY  277 

erated  his  liquor.  I  asked  the  good  old  gentleman  a  question, 
and  it  was  droll  to  see  how  quickly  he  left  my  house,  There 
were  many  funny  things  though;  I  laugh  now  to  think  of  the 
men  who  came  to  me  to  "beg  off";  they  had  been  drunk  and 
they  thought  I  knew  it.  Some  feared  to  lose  good  jobs;  others 
dreaded  the  jibing  and  exposure;  they  assumed  I  knew,  and  I 
assumed  I  did,  and  I  left  them  off,  but  not  without  the  best 
advice  I  had  on  hand.  I  learned  what  is  meant  by  "The  wicked 
flee  when  no  man  pursueth".  I  think  some  thought  I  knew 
everything.  I  did  not,  but  I  knew  a  great  deal.  Some  of  our 
reformed  men  would  put  me  onto  things  and  most  unexpected 
matters  came  to  my  knowlege.  Once  a  saloon  keeper's  wife 
whose  husband  beat  her  face  to  a  pulp,  told  me  of  it,  and  he  got 
a  good  write  up.  And  all  sorts  of  people  told  me  things,  and 
I'd  verify  them,  and  then  use  them.  Some  times  I  heard  people 
talking,  then  I'd  find  a  fact,  and  out  of  the  two  I  had  a  tale  to 
verify  and  use,  aud  no  one  could  tell  where  or  how  I  got  the 
story.  I  published  the  law;  I  used  ridicule,  argument,  every- 
thing I  knew  how  to  handle,  to  break  up  the  saloon  evil,  and 
make  life  sweet  and  safe. 

"The  Little  Red  School  House  Fight"  in  Illinois  gave  me  a 
fine  opportunity.  A  local  saloon  Lutheran  Preacher  published 
three  virulent  articles  on  the  Godless  free  schools  of  Illinois  in  a 
local  paper.  I  used  him  up  in  one  issue  and  made  him  the 
laughing  stock  of  our  county,  and  he  was  so  ashamed  of  being 
beaten  out  by  a  woman,  that  he  left  our  vicinity  inside  of  two 
months  from  the  time  I  "riddled"  him.  He  had  sailed  so  high 
and  mighty,  as  the  champion  of  opposition  to  free  schools  that 
he  was  swelled  with  pride,  and,  like  Darius  Green,  he  hit  the 
ground  with  a  mighty  bump  when  he  landed.  The  Lutherans 
were  mad  at  him  now,  because  he  had  made  himself  and  them, 
ridiculous  by  these  three  articles,  and  so  he  fell,  and  so  he  left 
us.  Some  of  our  people  were  hilarious  over  it. 

I  had  many  dear,  good  friends  who  helped  me  and  prayed 
for  me,  and  who  said  dear,  kind  things  to  me.  They  held  me 
up,  and  I  think  the  Holy  Angels  helped  me  too.  The  children 
came  each  month  and  folded  the  one  thousand  copies  of  the 
paper  and  so  helped  it  on,  and  they  called  it  theirs,  and  they 
were  the  great  hope  after  all.  I  knew  the  saying  "Paul  plants, 


278  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

Apollos  waters,  God  giveth  the  increase".  We  all  worked  who 
loved  the  cause  in  Effingham  County;  we  all  did  what  we  could; 
The  Friend  of  Home  did  what  it  could,  Truth  grew;  and  there 
came  a  day  when  I  felt  I  no  longer  needed  to  do  this  hard  work; 
the  seed  sown  was  ripening;  the  harvest  was  coming  on;  our 
children  were  studying  Scientific  Temperance  in  the  public 
schools;  the  question  of  Saloons,  or  no  Saloons,  total  abstinence 
from  alchoholics  as  beverages  was  on  a  right  basis  the  world 
over;  the  young  men  were  beginning  to  vote  right;  old  political 
ties  hung  loosely  on  voters  necks,  and  one  day  Effingham  went 
dry!  The  most  sanguine  were  astonished  and  said  it  was  a 
miracle,  but  it  was  the  result  of  long,  long  hard  years  of  pa- 
tient, untiring  labor  by  a  few  people  and  by  our  children.  Some 
of  our  Germans  began  to  vote  dry  tickets.  A  young  man  was 
elected  County  Superintendent  of  Schools  on  a  vote  as  clean  as 
any  could  demand.  There  was  not  a  smirch  of  the  saloon,  or 
even  tobacco  on  him.  He  is  one  of  ours,  Democrats,  Republicans, 
Socialists  and  Prohis  joined  to  do  that,  and  we  now  know  just 
how  to  get  the  sort  of  officials  we  want;  all  right  forces  must 
join  to  vote.  Our  County  is  dry  on  the  line  of  the  Illinois  Cen- 
tral except  Effingham  which  had  her  saloons  return,  and  at  a 
loss  to  everybody  except  the  saloon  house  renters  who  draw 
rent  from  the  brewers,  who  do  not  even  get  their  rent  back. 
But  when  we  vote  again  some  day  they  will  be  gone  for  good; 
God  sent  them  on  us  as  a  scourge  to  cure  some  who  could  not 
be  cured  any  other  way.  All  of  our  saloons  will  soon  be  ended, 
there  is  a  rising  tide  against  them,  that  is,  in  fact,  the  Voice  of 
God  the  world  over.  The  Friend  of  Home  did  its  part  with  the 
faithful  ones  who  have  labored,  and  still  labor  on  in  this  little 
County,  and  the  world  over. 

The  best  of  all  is,  that  I  who  was  hated  and  despised  and 
ridiculed,  have  been  forgiven,  and  everywhere  kindly  friends 
and  kindly  faces  and  voices  greet  me  among  all  classes  of  our 
people.  And  I  rejoice  and  thank  God,  who  sustained  me,  and  let 
me  live  to  see  this  better  day,  and  by  the  eye  of  faith  permits 
me  to  see  a  better  day  that  is  coming  as  fast  as  it  can  when 
there  will  be  no  saloons,  no  drunkards,  no  ruined  boys  and  no 
need  to  do  the  hard  work  The  Friend  of  home  was  obliged  to 
tackle. 


A  LOVE  STORY  279 

WORK  AND  ITS  VALUES. 

One  of  the  stupidest  things  that  ever  got  set  in  the  head  of 
man  was  that  it  is  a  punishment  to  labor.  I  was  once  discuss- 
ing this  subject  with  an  old  farmer  Baptist  gentleman,  a  king 
bee  in  his  settlement,  and  I  said,  "Now  suppose  Adam  had 
toafed  all  his  life  instead  of  having  to  work,  how  much  better 
would  we  be  than  our  tramps  today' '  ?  He  laughed  and  laughed. 
He  had  positive  ideas  of  men  working  and,  I  suppose,  had  heard 
it  preached  always  that  the  ground  has  been  cursed  and  Adam 
made  to  sweat  and  work  as  a  punishment,  but  he  believed  in 
work  and  knew  its  values,  and  the  incongruity  made  him  laugh 
hard.  I  laughed  too,  for  it  was  a  ridiculousidea. 

The  man  or  woman  who  imagines  work  is  a  punishment  is 
out  of  harmony  with  Nature.  The  whole  of  a  man  is  made  for 
work,  and  nothing  in  him  develops  without  it;  brains,  muscle, 
tissue  and  affection,  all  of  him.  The  man  or  woman  who  does 
not  work  must  live  by  his  or  her  wits,  and  they  are  poor  wits, 
and  as  a  general  thing  they  bring  their  owners  to  mischief  and 
trouble  in'plenty.  The  hand  that  is  muscleless  belongs  to  one  of 
the  idle,  or  the  dependent  poor.  The  most  beautiful  hand  on  man 
or  woman  is  the  hand  that  has  character,  that  is  developed, 
and  it  is  the  hand  that  works. 

What  ails  so  many  of  our  young  people  to-day  is  the  fact 
that  they  do  not  work,  and  all  the  schooling  fond  parents  give 
them,  excusing  them  from  all  labor  that  they  may  have  time 
for  music  or  learning  in  books,  is  well  wasted  for  the  boy  and 
girl  who  does  not  work,  doesn't  know  how,  and  can  not  apply 
what  he  learns.  The  boys  and  girls  who  work,  generally  '  'get 
on",  and  do  not  get  into  mischief. 

The  farm  bred  boy,  and  girl  is  happy,  for  with  them  work 
is  a  matter  of  course.  The  hope  of  the  little  lad  is  to  drive 
horses  and  wagon  and  plough,  and  do  all  the  other  farm  work. 
The  boys  take  pride  in  it.  They  do  not  lose  in  school,  for  with 
less  time  spent,  they  master  more  and  can  apply  it,  hence  they 
are  in  demand  and  excel;  the  girls  wash,  iron,  scrub,  bake,  make 
garden,  raise  poultry,  and  as  workers  are  superior;  as  wives, 
and  mothers  they  excel.  Boys  and  girls  of  the  country  places, 
teach  school  too.  The  manifold  work  of  the  farm  keeps  even  the 


280  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

little  children  busy,  and  work  is  a  real  pleasure  in  their  eyes. 
So  they  follow  the  natural  law  and  work,  and  that  leads  to  suc- 
cess in  whatever  they  lay  their  hands  on. 

I  once  had  a  calf  to  load  and  I  asked  a  young  man,  '  'Were  you 
raised  on  the  farm"?  "Yes",  he  said.  "Then"  said  I,  "come 
load  a  calf  for  me".  He  knew  just  how  to  do  it.  Your  lad  in 
the  town  takes  athletics  in  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.,  he  runs  and  swims* 
but  he  don't  like  to  do  work  as  a  rule.  Hence,  it  is  that  work, 
not  play  and  amusement,  results  in  the  best.  Match  games,  and 
traveling  about  from  city  to  city,  thus  makes  mere  work,  dull  to 
our  youngster.  The  real  work  of  the  farm  with  an  object  of  value 
at  the  end  of  every  task  is  the  best  developer  of  the  child.  If  I 
had  children  I'd  hie  me  to  a  farm.  I  told  some  men  once  that 
I  was  not  in  favor  of  sending  anyone  to  Legislature  or  Congress 
who  had  not  had  a  training  in  real  work.  We  examine  all 
criminals  and  record  all  marks,  their  thumbs,  particularly,  and 
I'd  demand  for  my  ballot  if  I  could  vote,  a  man  who  could  and 
would  work.  I'd  say  to  him  hold  up  your  hands  and  show  that 
labor  has  given  them  character  or  I'd  not  vote  for  him.  Other- 
wise politicians  are  like  to  live  by  their  wits,  and  then  they  sell 
us  out.  So  I'd  demand  the  man  who  works  to  serve  in  the  law 
making  bodies  of  our  land.  There  can  be  no  true  develpoment 
of  a  man  or  woman  who  does  not  work. 


A  LOVE  STORY  281 

THE  BLACKSMITH. 

"Oh,  the  blacksmith's  a  fine  sturdy  fellow, 
Hard  his  hand,  but  his  Heart's  true  and  mellow; 
See  him  stand  there,  his  huge  bellows  blowing, 
With  his  great  brawny  arms  bare  and  free." 

—  From  the  German. 

See  the  fire  on  his  forge  how  it's  roaring, 
And  the  iron  on  his  anvil  is  glowing, 
Clang,  Clang,  Clang,  hear  his  hammer  is  ringing 
As  the  metal  he  shapes  at  his  will. 

Oh,  we  love  at  thy  shop  door  to  linger, 
Hear  the  roar  of  thy  fire  like  a  singer, 
Up  the  chimney  in  hoarse  accents  calling 
On  the  sprits  of  earth,  air  and  sea. 

Oh,  thy  heart  like  thy  fire  is  a  warm  one, 
And  thy  hand,  tho  though  tis  hard,  it  will  harm  none; 
May  thy  deeds  like  a  hammer  shape  goodness 
Heated  white  like  the  steel  in  thy  forge. 

"Oh,  the  blacksmith's  a  fine  sturdy  fellow 
Hard  his  hand,  but  his  heart's  true  and  mellow," 
May  his  forge,  hammer,  anvil  and  bellows 
With  their  music  our  hearts  melt  in  one. 


282  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

WORK  FOR  BOYS  AND  GIRLS. 

I  always  taught  children  that  if  I  had  them  in  my  house  the 
boys  would  have  to  take  turn  about  with  the  girls  at  house 
work,  if  there  was  no  other  work  for  them  to  do.  To  let  boys 
be  waited  on  by  girls  and  women  is  one  of  the  things  that  ulti- 
mate too  often  in  dissolved  households  and  Divorce  Courts.  I 
used  often  to  quiz  my  little  flock  of  boys  and  girls  thus:  "How 
many  of  you  boys  pick  up  your  clothes,  clean  or  dirty,  and  put 
them  away?  Hold  up  your  hands".  My,  what  a  few  hands 
went  up?  "How  many  of  you  girls  and  your  Mothers  pick  up 
your  brother's  clothes,  clean  or  dirty,  and  put  them  away"? 
My,  what  a  lot  of  hands  went  up!  And  I'd  say  "Why  don't 
you  boys  pick  up  your  own  clothes"?  And  they'd  grin.  "And 
you  girls  make  your  brothers  pick  up  and  put  away  their  own 
clothes;  don't  you  pick  up  their  clothes  any  more".  It  makes 
boys  domineering  over  women,  it  makes  them  despise  and  be- 
little the  work  of  women  to  be  waited  on  like  this,  and  the  boy 
needs  the  culture  of  order  and  industry,  as  much  as  the  girl 
does,  and  we  harm  him  as  boy  and  man,  when  we  have  things 
otherwise.  The  boys  on  the  farms  have  outside  work  to  do  and 
they  help  the  women  more,  so  they  understand  the  divisions  of 
labor  is  equal. 

If  I  had  boys  and  girls  in  town,  the  boys  should  serve  their 
turn  in  the  kitchen  and  house  week  and  week  about,  with  the 
girls.  The  training  of  the  senses  is  not  damaged  but  aided  by 
the  work  of  the  house.  American  men  are  the  most  ingenious 
of  all  men,  and  are  more  of  them  adepts  in  housework  than  the 
men  of  any  other  Nation.  The  Japs  who  whipped  the  Russians 
and  beat  old  "Adam  Zad"  to  a  finish  are  handy  at  domestic 
work.  In  the  towns  the  baby  boy  is  sent  upon  the  street  to 
run  up  and  down  on  his  tricycle  or  bicycle.  He  must  as  soon 
as  he  is  able,  go  to  base  ball,  foot  ball,  and  fish  and  hunt  and  loaf 
and  stand  at  police  trials  to  listen,  and  he  fights  and  gets  to 
drinking  often  and  we  wonder  why.  He  runs  till  he  is  worn 
out  and  then  comes  in  to  throw  his  garments  helter  skelter  for 
the  women  and  girls  to  pick  up,  and  to  growl  and  order  his 
Mother  and  sister  about  for  what  he  wants  to  eat,  drink  and 
wear.  The  little  man  needs  the  discipline  of  work  in  the  house 


A  LOVE  STORY  283 

for  his  soul's  and  body's  good,  and  we  sin  against  his  sister  and 
him,  when  we  neglect  or  refuse  to  put  him  in  the  traces.  The 
colt  that  always  wears  a  halter  makes  the  best  horse.  He 
never  has  to  be  broken  in;  he  learns  every  day  from  the  time 
his  life  began,  and  so  of  the  boys.  Let  the  howlers  about  di- 
vorce spend  their  breath  and  strength  on  this  phase  of  the  di- 
vorce question  and  so  help  to  end  the  matter  sooner.  I  have 
known  many  men  as  used  to  house  work  as  women.  They 
make  good  men  and  kind,  good  husbands  and  brothers,  and  I 
never  saw  one  who's  abilities  were  damaged,  on  the  other  hand 
they  were  enlarged. 

Emerson  wrote  his  first  poetry  to  a  metre  that  fit  with  the 
noise  of  the  knives  he  scoured  in  his  Mother's  kitchen,  and  he 
washed  dishes;  she  kept  boarders  to  make  her  own  and 
and  her  children's  daily  bread.  Yet  he  wrote  "The  Prob- 
lem", a  Masterpiece  among  poems  and  of  the  English  language. 
He  and  his  brother  had  one  coat  between  them  and  went  to 
school  alternate  days,  and  served  in  the  house  and  kitchen. 
Who  wrote  more  marvelously  or  deeper,  higher,  wiser,  or  more 
musically  than  he?  And  he  is  one  of  many.  Boys  and  girls 
both  need  the  discipline  of  the  house  work.  Herein  lies  the 
solution  of  the  so  called  servant  question.  The  Lord  has  taken 
away  the  "hired  girl,"  and  the  sooner  people  see  the  the  reason 
why  and  set  their  children  to  work,  the  better  for  the  boys  and 
girls.  This  is  why  the  farm  is  the  great  and  ideal  place  for 
the  rearing  of  children.  All  have  to  work.  It  is  the  proper 
thing  and  this  is  why  the  school  of  the  farm  turns  out  lawyers, 
doctors,  statesmen,  reformers,  preachers,  men  and  women  of 
affairs,  and  why  the  farmer's  sons  and  daughters  are  "in  the 
saddle",  the  world  over. 


284  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

A  WOMAN  ON  THE  SUPREME  BENCH. 
Debora,  a  Supreme  Judge,  and  God's  Mouthpiece. 

It  is  curious  that  the  male  Theologues  who  study  the  Bible 
continually,  know  so  little  of  the  women  of  the  old,  old  Book. 
From  Eve,  to  the  woman  of  Revelation,  they  fill  large  space 
and  play  most  important  roles.  These  are  so  many  it  would  take 
a  book  to  write  them  up. 

Tuere  was  one  who  played  the  most  conspicuous  role  of  any 
mentioned.  She  was  the  Fourth  Judge  in  Israel;  and  may  be 
read  of  in  full  in  4th  and  5th  Judges,  and  in  Josephus'  wars  of 
the  Jews.  Debora  was  not  only  the  Fourth  Judge  over  Israel 
and  the  mouthpiece  of  the  Lord,  she  was  as  his  prophet,  she 
gave  the  law  to  the  people  that  they  were  required  to  obey. 
She  was  the  supreme  Judge,  and  she  must  have  been  a  good 
one,  for  we  are  told  the  people  came  willingly  to  her  to  be 
judged.  She  adjudicated  all  law  suits  of  whatever  sort  in 
Israel.  She  was  also  the  Commander-in-chief  of  the  Army  of 
Israel,  and  the  Captain  of  the  Israelitish  Hosts,  Barak,  was 
obliged  to  obey  her  orders.  She  went  upon  the  Battle  field  and 
directed  the  great  fight  against  King  Jabin  and  all  his  terrible 
warriors  under  Sisera.  Though  the  Israelites  had  perhaps  ten 
thousand  men,  and  their  enemy  three  hundred  thousand  and 
all  the  implements  of  war,  and  horses  and  chariots,  the  battle 
resulted  in  a  complete  rout  for  the  enemies  of  Israel.  The 
Israelitish  men  were  afraid  and  would  have  fled  the  battle,  but 
Debora  commanded  them  to  stay  and  fight;  she  forbade  them 
to  leave  the  field,  and  they  were  obliged  to  obey  her;  she  fore- 
told the  victory,  and  it  came  to  pass  as  she  said. 

I  once  travelled  eighty  miles  by  night  to  hear  a  paper  read 
on  the  Lawyers  of  the  Bible  at  the  Illinois  State  Bar  Association, 
by  an  able  Lawyer.  I  just  wanted  to  see  if  he  would  mention 
this  woman  Lawyer  who  was  a  Supreme  Judge.  Well,  he  did 
not;  he  did  not  know  anything  about  her,  though  she  had  the 
best  record  by  far  of  any  Lawyers  mentioned  in  the  Bible,  except 
Moses  that  he  wrote  of.  I  knew  him  very  well  and  I  asked 
him  why  he  left  Debora  out,  and  asked  that  he  put  her  in  his 


A  LOVE  STORY  285 

paper  before  it  was  published,  but  he  never  did,  and  he  did  not 
know  anything  about  this  woman  Lawyer  of  the  Bible. 

Debora  was  a  married  moman;  her  husband  was  Lapidoth, 
who  I  can  imagine  to  have  been  a  first  class  gentleman,  who 
gave  her  good  backing.  Debora  was  able.  The  scathing  re- 
bukes she  gave  the  tribes  who  refused  to  fight  in  that  battle 
against  Jabin  must  have  made  them  whince.  Her  descriptive 
powers  were  fine.  The  song  she  and  Barak  sang  together 
before  the  people  after  the  victory  was  magnificent,  and  should 
be  read  to  be  appreciated.  And  yet  she  seemed  to  take  great 
pride  that  shea  "Mother  in  Israel,"  had  been  the  great  force 
under  God  to  govern  Israel  and  to  settle  that  fight.  The  nara- 
tive  concludes.  "And  the  land  had  peace  for  forty  years". 
This  Mother  in  Israel  was  a  good  fighter. 

I  think  that  if  the  women  of  the  world  now  had  a  chance  to  lay 
their  hands  and  hearts  on  this  old  world  of  ours,  they  could  do 
it  good.  We  could  destroy  many  evil  things;  we  could  bring 
peace  to  many  troubled  conditions  like  that  old  '  'heathen  in  Is- 
rael" who  was  prophet,  judge  and  commander  in  chief  of  Isra- 
el's army.  In  all  the  years  that  women  have  been  trying  to 
get  their  "rights"  one  argument  has  had  great  power  against 
them.  That  as  a  woman  could  not  fight  nor  go  to  war,  she  had 
no  right  to  equality  with  man.  This  argument  if  Debora  fought 
should  have  no  force.  The  Church  and  the  Theologues  have 
been,  and  still  are,  the  greatest  opponents  to  woman's  advance 
along  those  lines  for,  though  she  is  the  main  support  of  the 
Church,  she  is  barred  out  of  its  rights,  powers  and  dignities,  ex- 
cept among  the  United  Brethern,  Unitarians,  Universalists, 
Free  Methodists,  Quaquers,  the  Weslyian  Methodists  and  one 
branch  of  the  Baptist  Church.  All  sorts  of  arguments  for  all 
sorts  of  things  the  Church  takes  from  the  Bible,  but  the  woman, 
the  Supreme  Judge,  the  Commander-in-chief  of  the  Army  of 
Israel,  and  a  great  warrior  who  went  in  the  high  places  of  the 
battle  field,  and  whom  the  Lord  set  over  men  to  give  orders 
and  be  obeyed,  they  do  not  mention.  It  remained  for  women, 
when  they  decided  to  read  and  expound  the  Bible,  to  discover 
Debora,  one  of  the  great  Commanders  in  War  of  the  world,  she 
was  a  "Mother  in  Israel"  like  themselves.  Like  the  wise  woman 
Diplomat  of  Abel,  who  was  greater  than  all  the  men  and  women 


286  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

of  a  great  City  and  saved  it  from  plunder  and  loot,  she  was  un- 
known till  discovered  by  the  women.  Anna  Ella  Carroll  did  as 
much  for  our  country  as  Debora  did  for  her  people,  but  she  is 
still  unrecognized  by  an  ungrateful  people. 

Jael,  who  slew  Sisera,  was  a  great  and  brave  woman  who 
finished  the  battle  Debora  led  by  slaying  Sisera.  The  Bible  is 
full  of  narratives  of  women  who  did  great  deeds  of  every  sort 
for  the  salvation  of  the  people,  but,  like  Debora,  they  are  ig- 
nored by  the  Church,  and  false  doctrines  taught  that  leave  them 
out,  when  the  Lord  set  them  over  the  people;  women  as  well 
as  men  were  by  the  Lord  placed  to  do  the  things  necessary  for 
their  peoples  pretection  and  salvation  in  war. 


A  LOVE  STORY  287 

I  DECIDE  A  CASE  IN  COURT. 

Judge  Thomas  Casey  of  Mt.  Vernon,  Ills.,  who  sat  upon 
our  Circuit  bench,  once  submitted  a  case  to  me  for  decision.  It 
was  the  case  of  a  twelve  year  old  girl  brought  before  the  Court 
on  a  Habeas  Corpus  by  her  Mother  who  was  divorced,  and  re- 
married and  lived  in  town.  The  girl  was  with  her  Father  who 
was  also  remarried,  and  lived  in  the  country.  I  could  see  the 
Judge's  feelings  were  with  the  Mother.  He  said,  "I  am  both- 
ered ;  you  decide  that  case  for  me".  I  did.  I  told  him  the  girl's 
Mother  had  once  had  a  very  bad  character,  that  it  was  n6t  of 
the  best  now,  (this  he  did  not  know) ,  and  being  in  town  would 
draw  temptation  to  the  girl  even  if  her  Mother  did  not  corrupt 
her.  That  the  girl  in  the  country  would  have  far  better  asso- 
ciates and  a  better  environment  and  would  be  safer  in  every  way 
and  I  was  of  the  opinion  that  she  was  better  off  to  stay  where 
she  was,  in  the  country,  and  with  her  Father.  And  that  was 
the  way  Judge  Casey  ruled  it.  The  most  of  the  actors  in  this 
case  have  gone  from  life,  so  I  can  tell  now,  if  no  woman  in 
the  United  States  ever  sat  upon  the  circuit  bench,  yet  one  woman 
decided  a  case  for  the  circuit  bench  that  the  Judge  presiding 
announced.  Judge  Casey  was  a  fine  chivalrous  gentleman  of 
the  old  school;  who  delighted  to  honor  women. 

I  asked  the  Mayor  of  Effingham  once  to  resign  in  my  favor. 
He  had  been  elected  County  Treasurer  and  was  to  resign  as 
Mayor,  but,  though  I  told  him  how  his  name  would  run  down 
the  ages  famous  for  having  done  such  a  strange  and  noble  deed, 
he  would  not.  No,  he  would  not.  I  wanted  to  be  Mayor  so  I 
could  help  Effingham  be  good,  and  break  up  a  lot  of  bad  things. 
The  Mayor  in  a  sense  is  a  Judge,  and  I  coveted  even  so  small  a 
bench  to  use  for  good.  I  think  if  the  Lord  set  Debora  upon 
the  Supreme  Bench  of  Israel,  the  American  man  ought  to  place 
women  on  the  County  and  Circuit  Benches.  Yes,  on  the  Supreme 
Bench  too.  I  am  glad  I  did  get  to  try  my  hand,  the  first  woman, 
I  think,  who  decided  a  case  for  the  Circuit  Bench,  in  the  United 
States,  or  in  the  whole  world  for  that  matter. 


288  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

BE  GOOD. 

'  'Be  good  dear  child  and  let  who  will  be  clever, 
DO  noble  things,  not  dream  them  all  day  long, 
And  so  make  life,  death  and  that  vast  forever 
One  grand  sweet  song. ' '  —  Chas.  Kingsley. 

Frances  Anne  Kemble  when  in  America  giving  Shakespear- 
ian readings  to  vast  audiences,  was  asked  if  she  ever  felt  she 
had  a  message  for  the  great  throngs  to  whom  she  spoke.  She 
said,  "Ah,  yes.  When  I  looked  upon  them,  there  rises  always 
within  me  one  thought  for  them.  It  always  is  '  'Be  good,  be 
good",  and  I  breathe  it  on  them— Be  Good".  After  all  there  is 
nothing  else  in  the  world  worth  while,  except  to  Be  Good.  Any 
one  who  starts  out  on  any  other  course  than  that  will  fetch  up 
in  failure.  I  gave  a  little  friend  of  mine  a  feather  bed  he 
longed  for  and  I  said  "Every  night  before  you  go  to  sleep,  you 
strike  that  bed  three  times  with  the  flat  of  your  hand  and  say 
"Be  good,  be  good,  be  good;  nothing  else  is  worth  anything". 
We  need  to  constantly  say  this  little  text  to  ourselves  until,  like 
the  Pillar  of  Fire,  it  goes  with  us  by  day  and  night  to  guide 
us  to  the  goal  of  greatest  good  to  ourselves  and  to  others.  How 
much  we  sin  against  our  children  when  we  fail  to  teach  them 
to  be  good".  The  Holy  Bible  is  full  of  it,  and  with  admonitions 
to  parents  to  teach  goodness  on  all  occasions  to  their  children. 
I  once  gave  my  Band  of  Hope  children  at  New  Years  a  pretty 
card,  or  wall  hanger,  white  with  gold  letters  and  the  Scripture 
texts  were  on  obedience  to  parents,  and  advice  to  parents  to 
teach  their  children  the  divine  law.  So  many  said  to  me  '  'I  did 
not  know  the  Bible  had  so  much  on  this  subject".  The  good 
old  Book  is  full  of  help,  and  the  song  it  sings  that  is  greater 
than  all  the  rest  is  "Be  good,  Be  good". 


A  LOVE  STORY  289 

RIDDLES. 

In  the  United  States  of  America  is  an  old  gentleman,  a  good 
old  soul  no  doubt  for  he  preaches  every  week  from  a  high  place 
of  righteousness,  but  oh,  he  is  so  bigoted  and  contrary— like 
Janus  he  seems  to  look  two  ways  at  once.  In  righteousness  he 
looks  forward  and  backward,  not  forward  and  upward ;  he  de- 
nounces the  ballot  for  women,  state  wide  Prohibition,  also  de- 
clares the  Mormons  are  obedient  to  the  law  against  polygamy; 
and  praises  to  the  top  notch  those  who  denounce  public  schools. 
How  comes  he  to  be  so  badly  mixed  up?  He  ought,  when  he 
preaches  righteousness,  declare  for  the  ballot  for  women,  for 
it  is  just  and  right;  for  state  wide  prohibition,  for  it  is  just  and 
right;  and  he  ought  to  believe  the  testimony  of  Ex  Senator 
Cannon  on  the  Mormon  question  if  he  will  not  investigate  for 
himself;  and  he  ought  to  stand  against  any  who  denounce  our 
free  schools ;  but  he  cannot  or  will  not  see.  However,  the  women 
are  getting  the  ballot;  the  states  are  going  to  have  prohibitary 
laws,  the  Mormons  will  have  laws  passed  to  bring  them  to  time; 
the  free  schools  will  be  strengthened,  so  what  will  he  do?  It's 
curious  men's  prejudices  stand  a  solid  bar  between  them  and 
the  knowledge  of  truth*.  His  pride  is  greater  than  his  desire 
for' knowledge  and  wisdom,  and  it  will  get  a  fall  if  he  lives  long 
enough.  Why  do  men  who  preach  righteousness  stand  like 
balky  horses,  and  refuse  to  even  consider  truth  when  it  appears? 

When  Phillip  of  Macedon  ordered  Beaucephalus,  the  lifiof.ouke 
able  stallion,'  to  be  taken  to  the  herds,  Alexander,  the  Great; 
his  son,  plead  that  the  magnificent  creature  be  given  to  him, 
saying  he  could  control  the  great  horse.  Alexander  had  ob- 
served that  Beaucephalus  was  frightened  at  the  shadows  cast 
by  his  own  body,  and  that  of  his  attendants,  for  they  stood  with 
their  backs  to  the  sun.  Taking  the  great  horse  by  the  bits 
Alexander  faced  him  to  the  sun,  and  handled  him  in  triumph 
amid  the  plaudits  of  the  multitude.  If  men  would  always  face 
the  truth  and  accept  its  full  glory,  the  shadows  they  cast  would 
be  behind,  and  not  before  them,  and  their  fears  would  fly  away, 
and  the  best  could  come.  Most  people  are  scared  by  shadows 
of  their  own  making  and  so  fail  in  great  deeds.  The  good  old 
gentleman  I  mention  seems  to  be  one  of  this  sort.  He  needs  to 


290  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

turn  his  Hobby  Horse  around.     The  riddle  is— why  don't  he? 

I  knew  another  old  fellow  who  caters  to  refined  ladies  in 
fashion  and  literature,  or  thought  he  did.  He  was  a  most  de- 
termined opponent  of  suffrage  and  felt  called  upon  to  fight  it. 
He  was  mean  enough  to  publish  a  mess  of  lies  about  the  W.  C. 
T.  U.,  and  when  they  kindly  protested  and  sent  him  facts,  he 
turned  up  his  nose  at  them,  and  refused  to  make  amends.  The 
Brewers  published  his  remarks  far  and  near  to  advance  the  sale 
of  their  goods,  buying  whole  pages  of  newspapers  to  this  end. 
Unluckily  for  himself  he  published  a  Medicine  Company  that  he 
said  put  alcohol  and  opium  in  their  medicine  for  women.  The 
Medicine  Company  sued  him  and  obtained  large  damages,  and 
the  old  gentleman  had  to  eat  a  dish  of  crow  in  his  own  publica- 
tion that  must  have  made  him  feel  sick.  I  had  to  laugh  to  see 
what  "a  muss"  his  lies  got  him  into.  However,  he  was  not 
yet  'cured,  so  he  hired  some  people  to  write  a  lot  of  lies  about 
the  voting  of  women,  and  the  women  voters  of  Colorado:  Why! 
the  air  was  thick  with  paper  missiles  from  the  hands  of  women 
and  men  that,  bombarded  him  and  his  publication,  and  he  ob- 
tained large  results  in  the  shape  of  a  depleted  subscription  list, 
in  addition  to  rebukes  of  all  sorts,  and  denunciation.  His  lying 
writer  was  contumeliously  jounced  out  <?f  a  club  he  dearly  loved 
to  belong  to,  finally,  and  his  lies  at  present  have  no  market. 
The  Editor  of  the  said  publication  is  having  to  advertise  stren- 
uously, and  is  as  mild  as  a  sucking  dove  on  the  woman's  voting 
x'XJhT&on  now.  Since  then  California  gave  her  women  the  ballot 
and  their  first  vote  cast  received  the  admiration  and  commenda- 
tion of  the  Country,  and  many  men  objectors  have  been  con- 
verted. The  first  jury  of  women  in  California  had  a  man  op- 
ponent of  the  ballot  to  sit  on,  and  they  showed  a  fine  sense  of 
justice  when,  in  spite  of  his  opposition  to  women's  voting,  they 
f  o  und  him  innocent  of  the  charge  against  him. 

The  way  these  good  old  men  behave  is  a  real  riddle.  Who 
will  solve  it? 


A  LOVE  STORY  291 

DAVID,  AND  THE  BEAR  AND  THE  LION. 

The  Bible  says,  David,  a  youth,  came  down  to  the  camp  of 
Saul,  where  for  forty  days  and  nights  Saul  and  the  Israelites 
had  been  taking  the  insults  of  Goliath  and  the  Philistines,  and 
shaking  in  fear  upon  their  knees  and  praying  the  prayers  of 
cowards  before  the  Lord.  David's  brothers  told  him  to  go  home 
as  he  was  a  naughty  boy  come  down  to  see  the  battle,  and  that 
he'd  get  hurt.  This  ruddy  cheeked  lad  was  ashamed  of  what 
he  saw  his  people  enduring,  and  the  insults  of  Goliath  woke  his 
wrath.  "What",  said  he  "will  the  King  give  to  the  man  that 
slays  that  ungodly  giant"?  "Oh,  a  gold  chain  and  his  daughter 
to  wife  and  many  other  good  things".  David  sought  Saul  and 
said  "I  will  slay  Goliath".  Said  Saul,  "You  can  not.  Goliath 
is  a  man  of  war  from  his  youth  up  and  you  are  but  a  child". 
"But",  urged  the  lad,  "A  lion  and  bear  came  to  kill  my  fath- 
ers sheep  and  I  plucked  the  lion  by  the  beard  and  slew  him, 
and  the  bear  I  slew,  and  the  Lord  who  gave  the  lion  and  the 
bear  into  my  hands  will  also  deliver  this  Philistine  to  me.  I 
will  slay  him  to  prove  there  is  a  God  in  Israel".  What  a  scene! 
A  whole  army  of  men  with  Saul  the  King  at  their  head  taking 
insults  to  themselves  and  their  God  for  forty  days  and  nights, 
and  trembling  on  their  knees,  as  cowards!  Here  came  the 
ruddy  shepherd  lad  who  had  gazed  into  the  blue  vault  of  the  sky 
at  night  till  he  knew  no  fear;  to  whom  all  nature  was  as  an  open 
book;  He  was  greater  than  all  that  multitude,  and  because 
there  was  no  one  else  to  take  hold  of  the  case  in  hand,  Saul  said 
'  'Take  my  armour  and  my  shield  bearer  and  go  and  slay  Goliath". 
David  said,  '  'Your  armour  does  not  fit  me,  and  your  shield  bearer 
I  do  not  wish".  I  am  always  amused  when  I  think  of  the 
wrath  Goliath  showed  when  he  saw  the  lad  David  come  out  to 
meet  him,  and  his  insults  to  the  lad  make  me  smile.  I  rejoice 
in  the  calm  faith  of  the  boy  who  said  "I  will  slay  you  to  prove 
there  is  a  God  in  Israel",  and  clad  only  in  the  scant  garment 
of  a  shepherd  lad,  with  his  sling,  and  the  pebbles  he  used  to  fetch 
his  sheep  to  his  call,  he  smote  the  Philistine  Giant  and  he  fell, 
and  that  war  ended  in  a  rout  for  the  Philistines.  This  is  a  good 
story,  if  it  is  a  fable  as  some  say,  that  of  the  She  Bears,  is;  both 
are  of  great  value. 


292  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

Our  youths  to-day  have  opportunities  for  good  educations, 
but  they  lack  the  education  that  David  had.  Our  need  to  day 
is  as  great  but  we  do  not  use  our  youth.  We  dissipate  them  in 
foolishness,  and  we  get  the  consequences.  Oh,  how  much  we 
need  men  with  the  faith  and  high  courage  and  knowledge  of 
David.  Our  great  College  centers  have  become  the  seats  of 
high  jinks  and  mop  heads,  and  the  grill  room  and  beer  steins. 
Their  ideas  have  filtered  down  to  the  High  Schools  and  from 
there  run  to  the  bottom  of  the  School  grades.  We  are  to  blame 
not  our  youth.  Not  a  college  in  all  the  land  to  day  with  all  their 
high  claims,  and  their  millions  of  endowments,  can  compare  in 
results  with  the  education  the  boys  of  the  Ancient  days  se- 
cured in  their  homes,  and  under  the  stars  and  in  the  fields.  As 
in  the  ancient  days,  close  contact  with  Nature  produces  the 
greatest  minds.  To-day  the  farms  send  forth  our  ablest  men 
and  women,  and  the  small  struggling  Colleges  and  Normal 
Schools  the  ablest  scholars  and  leaders. 

Let  us  return  to  the  conditions  that  produce  men  and 
women  of  righteousness  and  high  courage.  There  are  Goliaths  a 
plenty  these  days,  and  bears  and  lions,  as  there  were  in  David's 
day.  It  will  not  hurt  to  teach  our  children,  the  story  of  the 
Lion  and  the  Bear,  and  of  Goliath  and  David;  it  will  help  to 
make  them  men  and  women  worth  while. 


A  LOVE  STORY  293 

A  COUNTY  PRESIDENT. 

For  many  years  I  have  had  charge  of  a  County  for  the  W. 
C.  T.  U.  of  Illinois.  A  county  is  six  miles  square.  By  town- 
ships, by  school  districts  by  towns  and  villages,  and  by  voting 
precincts  we  organize  and  chase  the  enemies  of  home  .and  child- 
hood. We  fight  the  drink  habit,  its  open  exponent  the  Saloon, 
the  brothel,  gambling,  and  vice  of  all  kinds;  these  we  seek  to 
tear  down;  we  build  up  by  teaching  abstinence  from  alcoholics, 
Scientific  temperance,  Purity,  Suffrage,  Enforcement  of  law  etc. 
-ad.  lib. 

'  'Upspringing  from  the  ruined  old 
We  see  the  new." 

.  Everywhere  the  hearts  of  men  opened  to  the  plea  of  the 
women,  and  our  laws  for  teaching  children  Scientific  temperance 
are  on  the  books  of  every  state  and  territory,  in  the  District  of 
Columbia,  and,  thanks  to  the  keen  watch  care  of  the  women, 
are  in  fairly  good  operation. 

All  public  schools,  West  Point  and  Annapolis  included,  must 
teach  this  subject.  The  Missionaries  everywhere  in  foreign 
and  home  lands  work  with  us.  Many  belong.  We  have  Bands 
of  Hope,  Loyal  Temperance  Legions,  Medal  Contests,  Chat- 
auquas,  etc.  Out  of  our  song  books  we  set  the  hands  and  feet 
and  voices  of  children  to  keep  time  to  a  Great  Reform.  We 
inspire  their  minds,  we  warm  their  hearts,  we  enthuse  them; 
therefore,  we  see  what  we  see  the  world  over,  the  tremendous, 
victorious  march  of  a  Great  Reform,  soon  to  be  accomplished. 

"There  is  a  spirit",  and  it  is  of  God,  and  we  cherish  and 
nurture  it  the  world  over,  hence  we  march  to  victory.  Every- 
where our  Ships  come  in;  the  bread  on  the  waters  comes  back. 
We  women  who  take  the  Counties  are  expected  to  run  them 
financially  in  addition  to  all  other  of  the  lines  of  work.  In  my 
County  of  Effingham,  Illinois,  so  many  used  to  sneer  and  scoff 
when  our  children  marched  with  banners  and  song  through  the 
streets  of  our  towns.  They  joked,  when  we  gathered  them 
together  in  Rallies  at  the  County  seat,  and  sang  and  spoke  and 
had  prizes  for  merit,  and  a  good  time  generally.  Around  and 
around  the  County  our  meetings  ran,  thousands  of  speeches 
were  said,  200  medals  were  won  by  contests  and  thousands 


294  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

given  out.  I  drove  for  years  from  church  to  school  house  and 
open  places,  speaking;  others  came  to  help  and  we  held  on  to  the 
Lord  and  labored;  time  passed  and  the  children  began  to  grow 
up,  then  more  children  were  born  making  an  intense  sentiment; 
our  towns  began  to  go  dry;  political  conditions  began  to  change. 
No  one  laughs  or  jeers  or  sneers  now.  Not  in  vain  our  children 
sang  "Tremble  King  Alcohol,  we  shall  grow  up",  nor  Frances 
Willard's  words  "Saloons,  Saloons,  Saloons  must  go". 

There  is  no  escape  for  the  Saloon  now,  it  is  already  going. 
When  Effingham  went  dry  people  said  it  was  a  miracle.  It  was 
supposed  to  be  an  impossible  thing,  but  the  long  hard  years 
and  faith  in  God,  told,  we  got  a  dry  town  as  a  result  of  our  labors, 
with  plenty  of  financial  help  from  consecrated  pocket-books. 
"In  the  morning  sow  thy  seed;  in  the  evening  withhold  not  thy 
hand,  and  in  due  season  if  ye  faint  not  ye  shall  reap".  We 
sowed;  we  faltered  not;  the  reaping  is  on. 

The  women  who  did  the  hard  work  had  no  time  for  selfish 
indulgence  either  of  time  or  money,  and  they  took  joy  in  the 
work  and  shaped  the  destiny  of  boys  and  girls,  now  men  and 
women,  and  of  children  to  be,  and  we  shaped  our  County  too, 
and  the  State  and  the  Nation  and  civilization.  We  did  not  have 
an  easy  time;  sometimes  churches  and  school  houses  were  closed 
to  us  and  we  had  to  take  the  open,  or  clear  out  old  houses  or 
hire  places  to  hold  our  meetings  in.  I  spoke  one  evening  by  a 
railroad  track  when  I  had  to  compete  with  trains.  Our  County 
with  twenty  thousand  population  always  averaged  20  or  24 
saloons.  We  had  many  Germans  who  thought  '  'temperance  is 
foolish",  but  we  kept  at  our  work.  We  scattered  thousands  of 
pages  of  Catholic  total  abstinence  literature;  1500  Catholic  total 
abstinence  Medals,  Catholic  total  abstinence  song  books,  held 
meetings  in  their  strong  holds,  analyzed  their  beer  before  them, 
and  sang  and  spoke  to  them,  and,  as  a  divine  spark  resides  in 
every  human  heart,  we  always  touched  some  hearts  and  our 
friends  grew. 

A  County  President  of  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  has  much  to  do 
seeing  after  all  such  work.  At  the  last  election  in  the  County 
we  got  for  our  County  Superintendent  of  Schools  a  young  man 
who  had  been  a  Medal  Contestant,  who  is  a  good  Christian  and 
is  a  total  abstainer  from  all  narcotic  poisons.  I  think  I  may 


A  LOVE  STORY  295 

challenge  the  United  States  for  a  better  record  than  ours.  He 
came  in  without  a  taint  upon  him  of  the  Saloon  or  Narcotics. 
He  was  our  choice  and  the  way  opened  for  his  election  which 
means  so  much  to  our  homes  and  to  our  children.  That  was  no 
happen  so.  The  Harvest  of  our  sowing  was  ripe  and  the  Lord 
had  the  man  ready  for  us.  These  are  strange  things,  but  they 
are  true  and  we  have  others  as  wonderful  happening.  The 
political  outlook  is  rapidly  changing  so  we  expect  more  and  more 
to  follow. 

In  my  place  I  have  done  my  best  as  a  County  President,  as 
all  the  other  county  Presidents  of  the  United  States  have  tried 
to  do. 

The  United  States  leads  all  the  lands  in  temperance  work. 
Great  Britain  does  nobly;  France  is  fine;  Emperor  William  has 
organized  Good  Templary  in  his  Navy.  He  said  at  a  banquet 
not  long  since  the  Nation  that  used  the  least  alcoholics  would 
win  in  the  next  war.  Navy  men  who  sit  in  Conning  Towers, 
must  have  brains  free  from  Alcoholics  as  Science  has  demon- 
strated, and  as  electricity  has  demanded.  We  are  out  of  the 
sentimental  stage;  we  have  reached  the  solemn  fact  that  Alco- 
hol is  a  poison,  at  war  with  a  man's  nature,  forever. 

The  W.  C.  T.  U.  has  done  more  than  any  other  agency  to 
press  matters  on,  and  we  sing  with  joy,  "The  Temperance 
Army  is  a  gaining,  gaining,  gaining,  gaining  ground."  The 
ballot  for  women  which  means  so  much  to  all  reforms  draws 
near  because  of  us.  The  W.  C.  T.  U.  awakened  the  hearts  of 
men  and  women  and  "Out  of  the  heart  are  the  issues  of  life." 
"Civilization  is  the  influence  of  good  women"  says  Emerson. 
A  higher  civilization  is  on  its  way  because  the  good  women  of 
all  the  lands  are  bound  together  for  God  and  Home  and  Every 
Land,  and  the  County  Presidents,  who  keep  hold  of  Counties  and 
townships  and  villages  and  voting  precincts,  and  who  follow  the 
"do  everything"  policy  have  been  doing  their  best  and  are  a 
tremendously  potent  power.  I  am  glad  I  am  a  County  Presi- 
dent of  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  It  has  enriched  my  life  and  made  me 
a  means  to  help  on  great  good  to  the  world. 


296  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

DRUM  CHORUS. 

WRITTEN  FOR  A  BOY'S  DRUM  CORPS  IN  A  PARADE. 

Oh  rub-a-dub,  dub, 

Just  hear  the  hub-bub, 

The  temperance  soldiers  are  coming, 

The  Rally  is  near,  their  music  we  hear, 

For  to  fight  the  saloons  they  are  drumming; 

Rub-a-dub,  on  they  come, 

With  the  gay  rolling  drum, 

Our  hearts  to  its  music  are  swelling 

For  full  of  good  cheer,  we  know  as  we  hear 

'Tis  the  doom  of  the  dram  shop  the're  telling. 

Oh  rub-a-dub, 
Come,  swell  the  hub-bub, 
That  the  drummers  are  each  one  creating; 
Let  the  shrill  fife  sing  clear — 
"Loyal  Legions  are  here" 
All  united  to  make  a  commotion, 
A        That  shall  swell  as  it  grows, 
Until  it  overthrows 
The  horrid  saloon  we  are  fighting. 

Oh  rub-a-dub-dub, 

We'll  make  a  hub-bub, 

That  shall  spread  all  over  our  Nation; 

Yes,  we'll  waken  the  foe,  his  dram  shop  shall  go, 

And  we'll  drive  it  clear  out  of  Creation; 

Ho,  rub-a-dub-dub, 

Let's  make  a  hub-bub 

By  drumming  and  fifing  and  speaking 

Saloons  they  must  go — saloons  they  SHALL  go, 

Ho,  rub-a-dub-dub,  rub-a-dub'l. 


A  LOVE  STORY  297 

EDGAR  ALLEN  POE. 

Some  Europeans  of  the  literary  class  call  Poe  the  only  great 
original  writer  of  America.  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  used  him 
as  a  model  in  many  ways,  and  his  "Dr.  Jeckyl  and  Mr.  Hyde" 
was  patterned  after  Poe's  mysterious  and  most  gruesome  tales. 
At  the  Poe  Centennial  Celebration  in  London,  Conan  Doyle 
honestly  owned,  Poe  had  been  the  model  for  his  peculiar  line 
of  detective  writing.  The  murders  of  the  Rue  Morgue,  The- 
Black  Cat,  The  Mystery  of  Marie  Rouget,  The  Purloined  Letter, 
Mr.  Wilson  and  others  are  good  patterns  for  learners  in  that 
direction. 

Kipling  has  not  owned  his  debt  to  Poe,  but  The  Phantom 
Rickshaw,  Bimi,  The  Recrudescence  of  Imray,  and  others  of  his 
tales  show  clearly  the  pattern  from  which  they  are  cut,  and 
that  pattern  is  Poe.  The  Pit  and  Pendulum,  Legia,  The  Fall  of 
the  House  of  Usher,  The  Black  Cat  have  been  fertile  parents  of 
many  of  the  best  physic  stories  written  in  this  Century.  Spiritu- 
alism, so  called,  has  a  debt  to  pay  to  Edgar  Allen  too.  Poe  has 
been  a  profound  teacher  of  psychics  to  many,  so  he  probably  de- 
serves the  name  of  the  most  original  American  writer.^jijHis 
brain  was  a  golden  pocket  of  ideas,  but  he  reaped  no  temporal 
returns. 

I  read  Poe  when  a  youngster,  largely  at  night,  and  in  bed. 
I  would  read  and  shiver,  and  when  my  body  would  refuse  to 
keep  awake,  I'd  drag  the  bed  covers  over  my  head  to  keep  off 
the  fear  of  I  'knew  not  what,  and  go  to  sleep  because  I  could  no 
longer  keep  awake. 

Now,  without  a  lantern  I  track  about  my  farm  at  night.  I 
can  hear  the  blue  cat  that  scampers  through  the  leaves  and  keeps 
me  company,  but  I  cannot  see  her.  I  hear  the  pat,  pat  of  the 
feet  of  the  two  dogs  who  tag  me  down  the  steep  hill,  across  the 
bottom  as  dark  as  pitch,  and  up  the  hill  again  where  I  can  just 
see  the  dim  shadows,  but  I  feel  no  fear.  I  have  exhausted  fear 
and  superstition  long,  long  ago,  but  I  dearly  love  to  read  detec- 
tive stories  from  Pinkerton  to  Burns  as  a  result  of  reading  Poe 
in  childhood,  I  think.  Poe  has  been  a  good  teacher  of  Detec- 
tives. He  wrote  long  before  men  followed  that  profession. 
More  than  any  other  he  taught  us  to  read  the  secret  workings 


A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

of  men's  minds  and  hearts  and  the  mirror  of  their  thoughts 
in  deeds  and  faces.  He  taught  us  how  to  observe  the  smallest 
matters  in  our  search  for  hidden  mysteries,  and  the  motives  for 
men's  deeds.  Sorrowful  as  was  his  life  and  its  dismal  ending, 
he  is  likely  to  live  forever  as  the  greatest  original  American 
writer. 


A  LOVE  STORY  299 

JACKIE  DAW. 

'  'See  saw  Jackie  Daw 

Sold  his  bed  and  laid  on  straw 

Sold  his  bed  and  laid  on  grass 

To  buy  his  wife  a  looking  glass.". — Mother  Goose. 

I  once  bought  a  little  Bureau  at  a  sale  and  the  glass  was 
gone.  Where  it  had  been,  some  pictures  were  pasted  in,  and  a 
thin  muslin  drapery  hung  over  it.  The  woman  it  belonged  to 
had  died.  She  had  sons,  and  was  the  head  of  their  house;  but 
no  one  put  the  glass,  dear  to  every  woman's  heart,  into  the 
empty  frame  for  her.  Her  sons  were  big  and  able  bodied,  but 
no  one  cared  to  put  a  glass  in  the  frame  for  the  old  Mother. 

I  happened  to  think  of  Jackie  Daw  and  I  said,  "Well,  I 
never  thought  of  it  before,  but  Jackie  was  a  gentleman ;  he  was 
willing  to  sleep  on  a  hard  bed  to  get  something  for  his  wife 
that  she  wanted,  and  that  was  not  absolutely  essential".  And 
I  said  again  "Jackie  was  a  Gentleman",  and  I  began  to  build 
a  monument  to  him  in  my  thoughts. 

There  are  some  Jackie  Daws  now,  but  there  might  be  niany 
more  of  him  everywhere,  and  I  think  he  deserves  a  monument 
anyhow. 


300  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

CHIVALRY. 

We  hear  much  these  days,  that  chivalry  towards  women  is 
dead,  as  a  sort  of  set  back  to  those  who  demand  advanced  pri- 
vileges for  women.  Well  the  Knight  Errants  are  all  dead  too, 
God  rest  their  souls.  The  damsel  or  fair  lady  in  distress,  can 
now  call  upon  the  law  to  aid  her,  so  she  brings  suits  in  law  for 
all  sorts  of  things,  divorce,  alienation  of  affection,  for  land,  for 
everything.  Lawyers  are  plenty  who  will  take  cases  up  on 
contingent  fees,  so  the  lady  does  not  suffer,  as  in  the  days  when 
there  were  no  laws  for  her  relief  and  when  she  was  a  perpetual 
minor,  who  had  to  take  everything  she  got  out  of  the  hand  of 
some  mere  man.  Her  once  sorry  conditions  in  the  old  days, 
raised  up  a  class  of  men  called  Knight  Errants,  whose  business 
it  was  to  relieve  fair  ladies  in  distress,  for  they  had  nothing 
whatever  to  look  to  when  in  trouble.  August  Bebel  says  '  'woman 
was  a  slave  before  slavery  began".  There  was  otherwise  no 
relief  for  woman,  poor  creature  that  she  was. 

Now  woman  has  a  character  of  her  own;  men  have  at  last 
granted  her  certain  rights  in  law,  and  she  does  not  have  to 
weep  and  wail  and  wring  her  hands,  and  sell  herself  as  once 
was  her  sad  lot  The  true  Knight  does  not  now  a  days,  like 
t)on  Quixote,  ride  his  nag  in  rusty  iron  clad,  and  seek  fair  ladies 
in  distress;  nor,  like  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  spread  his  coat  to  be 
walked  upon  by  ladies'  feet.  Our  modern  Knights  sit  in  Con- 
gress, Legislatures  and  in  Courts  and  in  law  offices,  and  the 
lady  gets  relief.  Men  are  as  chivalrious  as  ever,  yes  more  so, 
and  the  most  advanced  woman  has  nothing  to  complain  of,  for 
she  meets  with  kind  treatment  and  help  from  the  best  of  men, 
be  they  in  high  or  lowly  places.  Chivalry  is  not  dead;  the  cry 
that  it  is  defunct,  is  a  mere  figment  of  somebody's  imagination. 
Not  all  men  were  ever  noble,  nor  all  women;  there  are  more 
good  men  now  than  ever,  and  more  good  women,— so  the 
foolish  cry  of  chivalry,  as  to  women.  There  is  more  of  real 
chivalry  now  than  there  ever  was,  for  justice  has  taken  the 
place  of  sentimental  interest.  Chivalry  is  still  alive  among  men. 


A  LOVE  STORY  301 

THE  BIBLE. 

'•Holy  Bible,    Book  Divine,   Precious   Treasure  thou  art 

mine' ' .  —  Old  Song. 

I  was  rather  surprised  when  in  America  a  certain  suposi- 
tious  wise  man  rose  in  the  rostrum  of  a  great  University,  sup- 
ported by  a  great  orthodox  rich  man,  and  said  '  'the  Bible  was  a 
book  of  myths  and  fables."  I  agree  it  has  myths  and  fables  in 
it,  notable  the  second  and  third  chapters  of  Genesis  rank  with 
the  old  myths  and  legends  of  the  ancient  peoples.  But  the 
Bible  gave  us  the  Ten  Commandments  and  the  Beatitudes  which 
are  the  basis  of  our  laws,  and  our  best  'ideals  of  life  here  and 
hereafter,  and  of  God. 

The  Bible  is  poetry,  history,  law,  geneology,  biography.  It 
is  a  book  of  truth  and  everlasting  principles,  that  all  people  and 
every  age  must  move  up  to  and  align  with,  to  be  at  their  best. 
It  is  a  book  of  wisdom  that  lifts  up  and  inspires.  It  is  full  of 
treasures  that  one  need  only  seek  to  find. 

Kipling,  who  captured  the  Noel  prize  of  forty  thousand 
dollars  not  long  ago,  and  who  wrote  that  great  Anthem  The 
Recessional,  is  versed  in  The  Bible.  If  labor  to-day  knew 
McAndrew's  Hymn  fully  in  spirit  it  could  stand  under  the  stars 
and  sing  a  hymn  that  would  draw  men  to  it.  I  often  smile  to 
see  the  efforts  of  writers  to  imitate  Kipling;  if  they  had  his 
knowlege  of  Holy  Writ  they  could  bring  forth  works  worth 
while,  I  think. 

All  the  great  men  and  women  of  America  of  the  past  have 
been  lovers  of  the  Bible  and  seekers  after  God. 

The  Bible  is  the  Farmer's  Book.  In  it  he  will  find  the  most 
beautiful  Exposition  of  the  life  on  the  farm.  The  soil,  good, 
bad  and  indifferent,  the  tilling  of  the  soil,  the  rain,  the  sun, 
the  heat,  the  winds,  the  cold  and  their  relation  to  him,  the  seeds 
of  every  kind,  good,  bad  and  indifferent;  the  sower  who  is  the 
farmer;  the  sowing  of  the  seeds,  the  harvests,  the  grasses,  the 
harvesting,  the  barns,  the  granaries,  the  weeds  that  plague  the 
fields,  the  animals,  the  admonition  to  a  merciful  care  of  them; 
the  hen,  the  little  chickens;  the  idealization  of  all  and  everything 
we  know,  and  the  use  of  all  in  the  Book  to  illustrate  the  higher 


302  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

life;  the  children,  the  women  in  the  house,  the  mysteries  hid  in 
all  things  from  the  tiny  seed  to  the  secrets  of  the  farmer's 
heart,  are  all  written  in  clear  plain  language  in  this  wonderful 
Book  of  Books.  Ah,  the  farmer  ought  to  love  his  Bible,  and  so 
enrich  his  life  and  his  farm  and  his  harvests  with  the  guiding 
knowledge  and  wisdom  and  beauty  in  the  Old  Book.  Adam  was 
a  farmer;  Abel  was  a  sheep  raiser;  Abraham  and  Lot  were  cattle 
men;  and  all  the  lands  of  the  Bible  are  green  with  harvests,  and 
resound  to  the  trampling  feet  of  the  herds.  The  best  we  know 
is  called  the  "Good  Seed".  God  is  the  husbandman,  Jesus  is  the 
Vine;  we  are  the  branches,  Jesus  is  the  Shepard  we  are  the 
sheep  the  children  are  the  lambs.  'The  best  we  do  is  called 
seed  sowing,  and  the  results  we  win  is  called  the  harvest.  One 
could  tell  the  old  story  over,  and  over,  for  the  Bible  is  the 
farmer's  Book  in  many  ways. 

The  greatest  of  Books  is  the  Bible,  and  yet  it  has  been  called 
by  some  the  dullest  of  books.  We  have  the  spectacle  of  the 
Catholic  Church  which  builds  on  it,  denouncing  the  right  of  the 
people  to  have  it  taught  in  the  common  schools.  Between  the 
upper  and  nether  mill  stone  of  the  Church  and  the  skeptic  the 
old  book  has  been  ground,  not  to  the  damage  of  the  book,  but 
to  the  damage  of  the  Church  and  the  people.  The  old  Book 
shines  more  and  more,  in  spite  of  it  all,  and  some  day  a  heart 
sick  world  will  come  back  to  the  Bible. 


A  LOVE  STORY  303 

GOD'S  ANVIL. 

"One  day  I  paused  beside  a  blacksmith's  door, 
And  heard  the  anvil  ring  the  vesper  chime, 
Then  looking  in  I  saw  upon  the  floor 
Old  hammers,  worn  with  beating  years  of  time." 

"How  many  anvils  have  you  had"  said  I? 
"To  mar  and  batter  all  these  hammers  so?" 
"Just  one"  he  answered;  then  with  twinkling  eye, 
"The  anvil  wears  the  hammers  out  you  know". 

"And  so",  I  thought,  "the  anvil  of  God's  word 
For  ages  skeptic  blows  have  beat  upon; 
Yet,  though  the  noise  of  scoffing  loud  is  heard, 
The  anvil  is  unworn  —  the  hammers  gone". 

Author  not  known. 


304  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

THE  PLAN  OF  SALVATION. 

"A  Mountain  was  in  convulsion  and  brought  forth  a  mouse". 

'  'I  say  the  whole  earth  and  all  the  stars  in  the  sky  are  for 
religion's  sake.  I  say  no  man  has  ever  been  half  devout  enough; 
nor  has  ever  admired,  or  worshipped  half  enough,  nor  has  he 
begun  to  think  how  divine  he  is  himself,  And  how  certain  the 
future  is".  —  Walt  Whitman. 

Tolstoi  considered  the  dogma  of  the  Redemption  one  of  the 
most  untrue  and  harmful  of  the  doctrines  of  the  Church. 

Not  long  since  I  was  at  a  menrs  meeting  in  a  Church.  The 
object  was  to  stir  up  the  men  of  all  the  Churches  to  take  a  for- 
ward movement  for  God.  There  were  a  number  of  Churches 
to  draw  on,  but  only  twenty-five  or  thirty  men  were  present;  three 
preachers  were  on  hand.  They  discussed  and  sought  to  find 
the  real  obstacles  to  the  Church  and  its  vigorous  progress  and 
remove  them  if  they  could.  One  young  man  in  his  remarks 
said,  "The  day  of  revivals  seems  past".  In  the  seat  by  me 
laid  a  new  hymn  book.  I  looked  it  over,  for  it  was  of  a  denom- 
ination that  had  had  a  cast  iron  creed,  and  I  found  the  Creed 
on  the  first  page,  and  a  statement  attached  said  it  had  been  re- 
vised in  1902,  and  as  I  read  I  found  many  things  in  the  revi- 
sion that  a  little  farther  on  will  have  to  be  revised  again,  and 
again,  to  meet  the  truth  that  is  flowing  into  the  world  so  rapidly. 
The  thing  that  ailed  that  meeting,  and  meetings  everywhere, 
was  one  and  the  same;  They  as  Churches— in  that  town  and  every- 
where—are running  on  a  platform  and  declaration  of  principles 
and  creeds  that  no  one  believes  any  longer,  not  even  themselves.  The 
old  Plan  of  Salvation  was  good  enough  as  a  working  hypothesis  so 
long  as  people  believed  it,  but  now  that  it  is  no  longer  in  gen- 
eral acceptance,  but  generally  disbelieved,  it  is  no  longer  a  good 
tool  to  work  with.  Revivals  have  ended,  that  much  is  known 
by  the  church.  A  new  Plan  of  Salvation  will  have  to  be  evolved 
before  men  and  woman  will  again  throng  the  Churches.  The 
beginning  of  the  old  Plan  of  Salvation  is  found  in  the  second 
and  third  chapters  of  Genesis  in  our  Protestant  Bible.  We  are 


A  LOVE  STORY  305 

told  God  made  a  man  and  called  him  Adam,  and  that  he  took  a 
rib  from  his  side  while  he  was  asleep  and  called  it  woman,  and 
named  it  Eve,  and  that  this  Eve  was  Adam's  wife.  Adam  and 
Eve  were  camped  in  a  beautiful  garden  which  was  filled  with 
fruit,  and  of  this  they  might  eat,  they  were  told,  except  of  one 
tree  called  the  "Tree  of 'the  Knowledge  of  Good  and  Evil". 
Now  we  are  told  that  the  devil  in  the  form  of  a  snake  came  into 
that  garden,  hunted  up  Eve  and  told  her  to  be  sure  and  eat  of 
the  fruit  of  that  tree,  for  if  she  did,  she  and  Adam  would  be  as 
the  Gods,  knowing  good  and  evil,  and  would  live  forever.  She 
took  and  ate,  and  she  gave  Adam  some  of  the  fruit  and  he  ate 
it.  Then  we  are  told  that  God  found  out  what  the  devil  and 
Eve  were  doing,  so  he  turned  both  Adam  and  Eve  out  of  the 
garden,  and  cursed  the  ground  so  Adam  would  have  a  hard  time 
to  make  a  living,  and  cursed  Eve  by  making  her  Adam's  servant, 
and  cursed  her  child  bearing,  and  God  was  so  horribly  angry, 
we  are  told,  he  either  couldn't  or  wouldn't  forgive  the  whole 
human  race  because  of  this  affair.  And  we  are  taught  they 
were  all  dammed  and  lost,  because  of  the  "Adamic  Sin".  But 
we  are  told  that  there  was  one  to  come,  a  Saviour,  who  was  to 
be  tormented  all  his  life,  so  that  God  could  bring  his  mind  to 
forgive  those  miserable  descendants  of  Adam.  Eons  passed, 
Christ  came,  we  are  told;  he  was  declared  the  Saviour  of  men 
from  the  sin  of  Adam,  by  his  death  on  the  Cross.  God  was  able 
to  forgive  man  after  he  saw  His  own  Son,  the  only  one  he  had, 
suffer  the  horrible  slow  agony  of  death  on  the  cross;  but  man,— 
poor  lost  man,— child  of  Adam,  had  now  to  accept  Christ  the 
Son  of  God,  as  God  also,  in  order  to  get  his  miserable  soul  saved 
from  his  own  individual  sins;  Christ's  death  saved  him  from 
Adams  sin  only;  in  order  to  escape  a  Devil  who  was  malignant 
evil  personified,  and  a  Hell  where  the  fire  would  burn  him  for- 
ever and  forever,  and  worms  would  gnaw  the  flesh  of  these 
miserable  wretches  eternally  and,  forever,  who  had  not  accepted 
The  Plan  of  Salvation  of  the  God  who  created  them,  and  also 
created  Hell  and  Heaven  and  the  Devil,  and  Christ  as  one  third 
part  of  the  Godhead.  And  last,  but  not  least,  the  dogmas  of 
the  Church  which  promulgated  these  ideas  must  be  accepted 
by  everybody,  or  all  would  be  lost  beyond  a  doubt;  this  was  ab- 
solutely necessary  and  this  is  all  called  "The  Plan  of  Salvation" ; 


306  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

•  , 

and  all  the  Orthodox  Churches,  Protestant  and  Catholic,  accept 
it,  and  each  Church  has  its  own  particular  set  of  dogmas  which 
must  also  be  accepted  with  it,  and,  as  they  none  of  them  agree, 
and  all  teach  Hell,  poor  "lost  man"  has  had  an  awful  time  of 
it  through  the  ages.  The  Ten  great  Religions  all  teach  a  God 
with  wrath  against  man,  and  who  has  an  everlasting  Hell  and 
Devil  and  fire,  to  torment  the  poor  creatures  he  made,  and  who  is 
to  be  placated  only  by  servile  worship  of  the  Deity,  or  Deities, 
these  religions  teach.  The  Catholic,  the  Greek,  the  Protestant 
Churches,  all  accept  and  teach  the  Old  Plan  of  Salvation,  so 
called.  It  has  been  taught  for  ages.  See  now— what?  The 
Church  everywhere  in  decay— Catholic  and  Protestant  alike. 
And  the  cause  is  alleged,  by  the  Churches,  to  be  the  rejection 
of  The  Plan  of  Salvation.  The  Church  laments,  she  cries  aloud; 
but  the  multitude  no  longer  accepts  The  Plan  of  Salvation.  The 
Salvation  Army,  the  Moody  Movement  for  Evangelization  of 
the  World,  the  great  Spurgeon  and  Beecher  and  their  class  have 
all  come  and  gone  with  their  teachings,  and  still  men  go  farther 
and  farther  away  from  The  Plan  of  Salvation.  The  Men's 
Forward  Movement  is  a  temporary  shift.  It  is  true;  the  day  of 
revivals  is  ended;  for  an  unreasonable,  vicious  unjust  God,  Hell 
and  the  Devil  have  passed  into  the  limbo  of  decided  and  final 
doubt.  They  grew  out  of  the  day  of  childish  faith  in  dogmas, 
but  men  and  women  demand,  now,  the  strong  meat  of  truth  to 
feed  upon.  The  Church  is  through  with  Revivals  under  the 
Old  Plan.  That  is  a  truth!  The  men  of  the  Pulpit  are  fewer  in 
number,  weaker  and  more  puerile  as  a  class,  than  they  ever 
were;  it  is  sad  to  see  their  decadence.  The  Catholics  who 
teach  their  young  with  vigor  always,  and  shepherd  them  faith- 
fully, cannot  hold  down  the  revulsions  from  their  dogmas  as 
seen  in  Italy,  France,  Spain,  Portugal,  and  Germany— yes,  in  the 
whole  of  the  Old  World,  and  in  Mexico  and  South  America  in  the 
New,  and  that  will  continue  to  rise  against  them  always  finally. 
Catholics  have  arisen  against  Catholics  in  spite  of  their  devout 
Popes,  Cardinals,  Priests  and  the  Holy  men  of  the  secular  orders. 
The  Solemn  vow  they  now  take  against  Modernism  cannot 
save  them.  The  Plan  of  Salvation  no  longer  holds  men. 

The  Conception  of  God  given  us  by  the  Orthodox  Church  is 
puerile  and  mean.     A  Christian  man  who  would  act  as  we  are 


A  LOVE  STORY  307 

taught  God  acts  in  The  Plan  of  Salvation  would  have  no  stand- 
ing in  any  community,  and  a  Plan  of  Salvation  such  as  the 
Theologues  propogate,  if  a  man  was  said  to  have  made  it,  would 
be  greeted  with  derision  and  "howled  down".  If  God  did 
foreknow,  and  it  is  unthinkable  that  he  did  not,  as  old  hard 
shell  Baptists  and  the  Calvanists  taught,  then  he  did  foreordain ; 
and  if  he  fore-ordained,  he  made  the  whole  trouble  himself  and 
Eve  couldn't  help  taking  the  apple,  nor  Adam,  be  kept  from 
eating  it,  and  the  snake  had  to  crawl  into  the  garden,  and  the 
Angel  at  the  gate  had  to  go  to  sleep  or  shut  his  eyes  so  the 
snake  could  get  in,  and  the  snake  had  to  talk,  and  Eve  had  to 
listen,  etc,  etc,  ad  absurdam.  I  do  not  believe  the  snake  story, 
for  in  the  very  nature  of  things  Eve  would  have  "scooted" 
screaming,  or  got  up  a  tree;  and  if  the  story  is  true  Eve  ought 
to  have  credit  for  being  smarter  and  meaner  than  Adam,  and 
the  death  of  Christ  should  have  expiated  the  sin  of  Eve  instead 
of  the  sin  of  Adam.  It  seems  to  me  Eve  in  the  garden  was  do- 
ing just  what  so  many  say  our  modern  Eves  are  or  they  ought 
to  be  doing,  that  is,  getting  something  good  for  "Adam  to  eat." 
And  why  then,  if  she  was  following  a  natural  instinct,  should 
the  Lord  who  planted  the  instinct  in  her,  punish  her  for  acting 
upon  it?  Eve  was  the  first  person  in  the  world  who  had  a  mind 
of  her  own.  She  discovered  freedom  and  enjoyed  it  before  any 
other  human  being  in  the  world  knew  what  it  meant.  She 
chose  to  follow  good  of  the  highest,  and  wanted  to  know  good 
from  evil,  and  be  as  good  as  the  Gods  were,  and  she  got  what 
she  was  after.  She  had  a  high  and  Holy  ambition.  She  did 
her  best  to  help  the  first  man,  Adam,  see  and  grasp  Freedom, 
and  to  aspire  to  all  the  high  things  she  aspired  to.  I  do  not 
see  that  women  have  changed  since  the  days  of  Eve.  They  de- 
sire all  she  did.  They  seem  like  our  first  Mother,  to  aspire  to 
the  best.  It  makes  me  sad  to  see  that  most  men  still  hang  back; 
but  some  day  they  will  catch  up  with  our  great  fore-mother  and 
her  high  ideals,  and  then  the  Millenium  will  come;  I  wonder  at 
myself  that  I  was  still  so  many  years,  and  let  so  much  abuse  be 
poured  upon  my  great  ancestor  Eve,  and  never  said  a  word  in 
her  defense.  The  fact  is  that  women  are  so  used  to  hearing 
Mother  Eve  abused  they  have  hardly  sensed  the  need  to  speak 
in  her  defense.  I  feel  that  I  have  been  a  great  "dumkopf", 


308  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

but  I  shall  speak  for  her  hereafter,  and  just  now  it  comes  to 
me  that  I  had  a  great  grandmother  who  was  named  Eve.  I  had 
forgotten  it,  but  her  father  and  mother  must  certainly  have 
considered  our  old  foremother  all  right  or  they  would  never  have 
named  a  child  for  her.  I'm  glad  I  had  ancestors  who  had  so 
much  sense,  and  also  the  pluck  to  name  a  child  for  that  much 
abused  great  and  glorious  woman,  Mother  Eve.  The  whole  of 
a  man's  anatomy  shows  he  was  made  to  work,  why  then  should 
the  one  who  created  him  to  work,  curse  the  ground  he  was 
obliged  to  till?  or  curse  the  woman  who  was  created  by  him  to 
bear  children?  If  Eye  did  nothing  else  she  is  the  cause  of  The 
Plan  of  Salvation,  and  if  the  narrative  is  true,  she  is  the  cause 
of  all  men  having  to  go  to  work  instead  of  loafing  all  the  days 
of  their  lives.  So  far  as  Adam  and  Eve  were  concerned  Adam 
seems  to  have  been  an  indifferent  actor  in  the  Garden  of  Eden; 
Eve  was  the  star  performer;  by  her  wit,  she  drew  the  subtlest 
thing  in  creation,  the  Serpent,  to  her  feet.  He  had  to  do  his 
best  to  take  her  in;  she  made  him  tell  the  biggest  lies  and  make 
the  effort  of  his  life,  according  to  the  story  of  The  Plan  of  Sal- 
vation. She  was  smarter  than  the  Serpent  who  was  said  to  be 
the  subtlest  of  all  things  created.  Why  not  say  so?  She  dis- 
covered that  to  be  naked  as  she  and  Adam  were,  was  shameful 
and  not  good,  and  that  seems  a  step  up  instead  of  down;  she 
did  get  knowledge,  for  both  hid  and  put  on  garments;  so  the 
serpent  did  not  lie  as  to  that.  She  was  the  cause  of  the  ap- 
pearance of  an  Angel  with  flame  and  sword  appearing,  and 
making  a  great  excitement,  and  she  and  Adam  went  from 
sloth  to  labor,  and  civilization  began  with  this  Exodous  from 
Paradise.  Give  Eve  credit  for  this,  it  is  hers.  Old  Mother  Eve 
was  a  very  great  woman.  Adam  was  certainly  a  weak  sort  of 
a  creature  from  what  we  are  taught  about  him.  What  did  he 
do  anyway,  except  to  claim  for  himself  all  the  results  of  Eve's 
adventures  and  discoveries ;  He  was  a  mean  sneak  for  he  accused 
Eve  of  being  the  cause  of  his  own  sins.  He  told  that  to  the 
Lord  too,  who  should  have  known  he  was  lying  instead  of  be- 
lieving so  mean  a  sneak  as  Adam.  No,  The  Plan  of  Salvation 
is  a  puerile  thing,  and  it  is  time  to  move  up  to  God  in  the  High- 
est, to  the  brightest,  the  noblest  ideal  that  the  mind  and  heart 
of  man  can  conceive,  for  that  is  the  Great  Altitude,  that  is  the 


A  LOVE  STORY  309 

new  Plan  of  Salvation,  we  must  have  if  the  church  is  to  live,  we 
can  go  no  farther. 

Free  the  minds  of  men  so  that  they  can  conceive  of  the 
highest  ideals.  We  need  to  reject  the  crudities  and  absurdities 
that  belong  to  a  ferocious  age  when  all  the  world  was  at  war, 
and  men  hated  and  killed  and  plundered  and  burned  and  raped 
and  were  as  devilish  in  their  beings  as  Apache  Indians.  The  reign 
of  love  and  compassion  and  uplift  and  beauty  and  spirit  came 
with  Christ.  Let  us  follow  Him. 

'From  the  beginning,  of  The  Plan  of  Salvation,  the  Church 
has  taught  the  subjugation  of  women  because  of  Eve's  alleged 
sins. 

I  once  asked  a  devout  Catholic  woman  if  all  the  women  in 
her  Church  had  to  promise  to  obey  the  men  they  married.  '  'Oh 
yes"  she  said,  with  a  pious  air  as  if  it  were  a  very  religious 
matter.  Her  husband  who  was  a  devout  Catholic  also,  told  me 
one  day  some  years  later,  of  some  things  he  wished  to  do,  but 
said  his  wife  would  not  let  him, 

Of  a  German  Catholic  woman  whom  I  knew  very  well,  I 
asked,  '  'Do  all  the  women  in  your  Church  promise  to  obey  the 
men  they  marry"?  "Oh  yes",  she  said  with  a  light  air— she 
was  not  married.  "Well,  do  they"  I  questioned.  "Oh,  how 
could  they"?  said  she  with  a  hearty  laugh,  and  then  we  both 
laughed.  She  had  several  married  sisters. 

I  told  a  Catholic  friend  '  'There  are  many  things  in  your 
Church  I  like,  but  I  couldn't  join  you,  for  you  make  all  the 
women  lie  to' get  a  husband,  you  make  them  promise  to  obey 
the  men  they  marry.  She  laughed  and  so  did  I.  I  saw  not 
long  ago  where  a  Catholic  man  sued  a  Catholic  Priest  who  had 
instructed  his  wife  to  disobey  him,  to  his  great  damage.  What 
a  mix  up,  but  its  good  old  doctrine  and  dogma,  and  has  a  sound 
foundation  in  the  Orthodox  Plan  of  Salvation  the  Church  teach- 
es yet.  The  Protestant  takes  the  old  Plan,  swallows  it  like  an 
oyster,  whole,  without  condiments.  The  Catholic  salts  and 
peppers  and  spices  it  with  tradition,  dogma  and  miracle,  and  it 
is  then  ready  for  his  uses.  The  Church  has  declared  the  woman  is 
the  source  of  all  sin,  the  corrupter  of  men;  Catholic  and  Pro- 
testant and  Mohammedan  and  Pagan  and  Savage  all  agree  on  this. 
She  is  the  thing  of  evil  which  lost  Paradise  to  the  human  race, 


310  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

under  all  religions.  They  have  put  in  the  mouth  of  every  man 
the  sneaking  lying  plea,  when  he  does  wrong,  "The  woman 
thou  gavest  me,  she  did  this  evil".  The  result  of  such  teach- 
ings is  seen  in  woman  refused  a  voice  in  the  Orthodox  Church. 
She  may  not  teach,  preach,  pray  or  speak— like  Deborah,  Mir- 
iam and  Anna  of  old.  The  Church  has  been  trying  to  fly  with 
one  wing,  no  wonder  she  has  finally  collapsed.  She  must  have 
both  men  and  women. 

The  Theologues  are  crazy  over  divorces.  Well,  has  not 
the  Church  kept  alive  the  idea  of  the  inferiority  of  the  woman 
in  subjection,  and  the  idea  of  a  man  doing  and  following  his 
own  will,  even  in  marriage?  So  this  divorce  question  is  up  to  the 
Church  to  settle,  for  it's  the  fault  of  the  Church  that  things  are 
as  bad  as  they  are.  The  Church  has  indoctrinated  the  man  to 
shirk  for  his  crimes  and  sins,  and  seek  a  scape  goat  in  the 
woman.  All  the  vows  of  obedience  that  have  been  exacted  by 
Church  of  the  woman,  and  the  ordinance  of  God  and  Sacraments 
as  declared  by  the  Church,  has  not  saved  men  and  women  from 
divorce,  and  worst  of  all  from  the  consequent  troubles  of  helpless 
childhood.  I  once  had  two  small  pigs  in  my  buggy,  each  safely 
tied  in  a  coffee  sack.  A  couple  of  us,  women,  had  a  foot  at  each 
side  of  the  buggy  to  keep  the  little  fellows  from  jumping  out. 
When  the  buggy  started  they  stopped  their  screams  and  sat 
down  upon  their  haunches  like  two  dogs;  they  were  in  separate 
sacks.  Presently  one  with  its  head  batted  the  other,  but  he 
got  a  good  bat  back,  and  the  two  pigs  kept  that  up  till  we  un- 
loaded them.  Each  pig  blamed  the  other  for  the  scrape  they 
were  in,  and  each  wanted  to  punish  the  other  pig.  I  saw  this 
idea  of  wanting  to  blame  someone  else  for  our  own  deeds,  as  an 
animal  trait,  and  of  all  the  mean  things  men  do  this  is  the 
meanest,  to  blame  some  woman  for  their  mean  deeds  The  first 
man,  called  Adam,  had  this  trait,  and  he  blamed  Eve,  his  wife, 
for  his  meaness,  and  men  and  Priests,  and  Preachers  still  teach 
the  practice  of  it  to  the  detriment  of  the  woman,  the  family, 
the  Church  and  righteousness.  Well,  let  the  Church  get 
out  of  it;  they  started  that  dogma  and  kept  that  thought  alive, 
and  nurtured  it  all  the  ages;  they  have  got  their  consequences. 
If  they  do  not  like  it,  let  the  Church  mend  its  dogmas,  and  its 
communicants  and  Priests  and  Preachers  cease  such  teaching. 


A  LOVE  STORY  311 

The  Lord  cursed  the  woman  in  child-bearing,  according  to  the 
Plan  of  Salvation.  Well,  according  to  the  dismal  lamentations 
arising  everywhere,  Eve's  daughters  are  somehow  or  other  get- 
ting rid  of  the  Primal  Curse.  Why  shouldn't  one  get  rid  of  a 
curse  if  he  or  she  can,  so  long  as  it  is  a  curse?  Let  the  Church 
elucidate  this  and  cure  it;  she  laid  the  foundations  of  this  evil. 
Let  it  be  remembered ;  the  Devil  and  Hell  are  lost  or  gone,  or  at 
least  have  no  longer  any  power  to  settle  things.  What  will  they 
do  about  it?  & 

I  once  heard  a  young  preacher,  fresh  from  Theological 
School,  describe  the  saved  and  blessed  of  the  earth  as  sitting 
upon  the  battlements  of  heaven  and  enjoying  the  shrieks  and 
screams  and  yells  and  curses  of  the  dammed,  who  writhed  in 
hell,  tormented  by  devils.  He  taught  what  he  had  been  taught 
in  a  great  Theological  University,  and  it  was  not  so  many  years 
ago.  Such  teachings  grow  out  of  the  old  Plan  of  Salvation, 
which  taught  that  God  was  malignant  and  unjust,  and  the 
multitude  has  revolted  and  has  cast  out  the  lies  of  the  Old  Plan 
of  Salvation,  that  made  God  appear  meaner  than  a  very  mean 
man,  and  much  more  wicked. 

"The  Church  in  vain  essays  her  ghostly  charm". 

The  men  who  get  the  most  out  of  the  ground  these  days 
are  the  men  who  do  not  work  the  ground;  they  make  others 
work.  Let  the  Church  hold  men  down  to  the  accursed  ground 
for  the  sake  of  Salvation!  Kings,  Queens,  Lords,  Ladies,  Heads 
of  great  Corporations  do  not  toil;  they  require  others  to  toil. 
Science  studies  the  works  of  God.  Socialism  rejects  God, 
and  is  considered  a  menace,  but  it  grows  everywhere.  The 
Black  Hand  and  the  Cammorra  seem  to  be  religious,  since  the 
police  of  great  cities  call  upon  the  priests  of  the  Mafia  to  help 
repress  the  murders  in  it,  and  the  Cammorists  seem  to  own 
their  own  special  priest. 

We  need  a  new  Plan  of  Salvation.  If  the  Church  can  furnish 
one,  well  and  good;  but  her  priests  and  preachers  as  a  class 
seem  in  decadence,  notwithstanding  noble  men  and  true  in  her 
borders.  We  have  none  any  more  who  can  hold  the  multi- 
tudes. The  Salvation  Army  hold  their  people  by  feeding  and 
clothing  the  body,  and  thus  open  the  eyes  of  the  soul  to  Christ. 
Men  need  earnestly  and  honestly  and  solemnly  to  reject  the 


A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

Old  Plan  of  Salvation.  It  has  served  its  time.  We  have  the 
old,  old  precious  Bible  full  of  Truth;  let  us  align  to  its  Truths. 
We  need  a  new  Bible  too,  with  the  Old  One  we  love;  we  need  a 
new  Plan  of  Salvation ;  we  need  love,  not  hate;  a  just,  not  a 
malicious  ideal  of  God.  We  need  the  Ten  Commandments  alive 
in  every  head  and  heart.  We  need  the  simple  creed  of  Jesus 
in  our  lives.  We  need  to  feed  our  souls  upon  the  Beatitudes. 

"In  Mosque  and  Synagogue  the  foolish  and  the  wise 
Are  ever  flying  Hell  and  seeking  Paradise'-'. 

But  whoso  penetrates  the  mind  of  the  Most  High; 
Nor  Hell  nor  Paradise  doth  ever  seek  or  fly. 

In  Synagogue  or  Mosque  who  loves  and  knows  God  well, 
Cares  not  for  Paradise  and  has  no  fear  of  Hell". 

-R.  H.  Stoddard. 

'  'Who  seeks  for  heaven  alone  to  save  his  soul, 
May  keep  the  path,  but  Will  not  make  the  goal; 
While  he  who  walks  in  love  may  wander  far, 
Yet  God  will  bring  him  where  the  blessed  are". 

-H.  Van  Dyke. 


A  LOVE  STORY 


THEOLOGIC  CREEDS  AND  CREED  MAKERS. 

'  'Let  the  preachers  create  creeds;  let  them  teach  all  that  they 
have  been  taught;  let  the  preachers  of  creeds  never  dare  go  medi- 
tate candidly  upon  the  hills,  alone,  by  day  or  by  night;  if  ever  one 
once  dare,  he  is  lost".  — Walt  Whitman. 

" For  me  my  Lord  I  love  him  not,  nor  fear  him,  that's  my 
creed" .  —Shakespeare. 

From  the  beginning  till  now  Creeds  are  made  by  men. 
When  the  Creed-Makers  get  them  shaped  to  their  notion,  they 
take  steps  to  get  these  creeds  accepted  by  others,  and  when 
they  become  strong  enough,  they  have  always  tried  to  force  all 
men  to  accept  them. 

The  fear  of  damnation  in  hell,  and  the  desire  for  salvation 
in  Heaven  hereafter,  was  and  is  the  motive  for  Creeds;  and 
Creed  Makers  were  plenty  always,  from  the  dark  ages  an- 
terior to  Moses,  in  his  day,  and  ever  since.  The  question 
"What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved"?  was  the  one  important  question 
in  all  the  Creeds  of  the  Pagan,  the  Mohammedan,  Jew  and  his 
successor,  the  Christian,  and  in  the  seven  (7)  great  Bibles  of 
men. 

The  first  Creed  of  the  Jew  and  his  successor  the  Christian, 
is  known  as  the  Ten  Commandments,  and  it  is  a  good  Creed, 
and  just  as  valuable  as  the  day  it  was  made,  and  any  right 
minded  person  can  accept  it.  The  Creed  of  Jesus  is  a  sum- 
mary of  the  essentials  of  the  divine  law,  and  encompasses  the 
Ten  Commandments  of  Moses,  by  the  law  of  love  to  God  and 
man.  The  Beatitudes  belong  to  both. 

The  old  Religionists,  the  Brahmins,  the  Budhists,  Zooras- 
tians,  Confucians,  Mohammedan,  Hoodoists,  Indians,  Africans, 
etc.,  all  have  their  Creeds,  but  we  are  principally  concerned 
with  the  Creeds  of  Christianity,  Protestant  with  its  various 
divisions,  and  Catholic. 

The  Creed  Makers  as  a  class,  have  been  men  who  were  ter- 
ribly religious,  and  who  seem  to  have  been  touched  with  the 
idea  that  the  major  part  of  the  human  race  was  doomed  to 
Hell.  They  were  faithful  if  ignorant  students  of  the  Bible.  I 


314  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

believe  the  major  part  of  the  Creed  Makers  were  gentlemen 
well  along  in  middle  life,  and  generally  dyspeptic  and  neurotic. 
Some  were  epileptic;  others  had  strange  and  alarming  visions, 
and  some  had  interviews  with  the  Devil.  I  judge  them  by  the 
Creeds  they  concocted,  and  which,  after  they  were  made,  they 
tried  to  make  people  swallow  for  fear  of  damnation  on  their 
say  so,  backed  up  by  numerous  texts  from  the  Bible  they  had 
strung  together  like  assorted  beads  on  a  string.  The  terrible 
nature  of  these  Creeds  is  evidenced  by  the  martyrs,  who  were 
burned  at  the  stake,  hanged  on  the  gallows,  drowned  on  the 
sea  shores,  broken  on  the  wheel,  pierced  with  knives,  suffo- 
cated, entombed  alive,  fed  to  wild  beasts,  and  massacred  on 
various  occasions.  Christian  Creeds  and  Creed  Makers  en- 
forced the  practices  of  Pagans  and  Savages  upon  those  who  re- 
fused to  accept  these  creeds!  They  were  not  of  God.  They 
have  largely  passed  away,  for  a  day  has  come  when  men  and 
women  are  free  to  think  God's  thoughts  after  Him,  and  no  one 
can  now  cram  a  creed  down  the  throat  of  another;  and  no  one 
can  punish  the  doubter  or  free  thinker.  There  are  churches 
yet  which  would  persecute  if  they  dared,  but  the  Greek  church 
of  Russia  with  its  murdering  of  the  Jews,  is  the  only  church  to 
day  that  dares  persecute  any  people  not  of  its  own  Creed. 
Russia  is  Pagan  yet,  for  all  her  claims  on  Christianity. 

It  is  comforting  to  think  of  the  rise  of  the  Quakers,  whose 
simple  creed  and  steadfast  faith,  and  recognition  of  women,  did 
so  much  to  preserve  the  love  of  God  and  man,  and  justice, 
through  the  years,  and  to  abate  war,  and  raise  the  status  of 
civilization.  The  Shaker  Saint,  Mother  Ann  Lee,  with  her 
simple  creed  of  ending  the  human  race  as  a  means  to  save  it 
from  hell,  is  a  credit  to  womankind  and  the  race,  as  beside  the 
horrible  creeds  of  men. 

No  one  should  accept  the  creed  of  another.  Each  should 
create  his  own  creed  in  righteousness  and  love.  I  am  always 
glad  for  the  New  Thought  people  who  came  to  teach  the  Gospel, 
and  help  men  and  women  to  rise  Godward  and  be  happier  and 
better.  The  world  owes  much  to  Mary  Baker  Eddy,  who 
taught  that  God  was  all  in  all,  and  that  man  was  enfolded  in 
the  divine  life,  and  whose  clear  notes  pierced  all  the  old  Creeds, 
and  raised  the  thought  of  the  world  on  healing  and  drugs,  and 


A  LOVE  STORY  315 

shook  it  to  the  bottom,  and  converted  schools  of  medicine  to 
higher  thoughts  of  healing.  I  accept  no  Creed  except  the  Ten 
Commandments,  and  the  Creed  that  Jesus  taught,  with  the 
Beatitudes.  I  rejoice  I  am  able  to  read  my  Bible  and  study 
the  Creeds  and  Creed  Makers,  and  have  freedom,  and  wit 
enough  to  analyze  all  Creeds,  and  to  know  what  is  best  in  them, 
and  to  reject  the  false  and  to  know  the  day  of  freedom  is  here, 
and  that  no  one  can  cram  a  Creed  down  my  throat,  or  that  of 
another. 

Not  long  ago  I  visited  a  good  old  Saint  seventy-seven  years 
old.  She  had  not  been  able  so  walk  for  many  years  from  a 
broken  hip.  She  had  had  many  afflictions  and  suffered  always 
from  many  and  severe  bodily  troubles. 

''But",  she  said,  "I  have  prayed  many  a  night  under  the 
trees  in  my  garden  to  be  led  to  the  truth.  We  are  all  one  body 
all  the  Churches.  It  is  like  a  garment,  one  has  the  waist,  one 
the  sleeves,  one  the  skirt,  and  so  on,  but  it  is  all  like  one  gar- 
ment, and  I  want  to  go  to  my  home  in  heaven  so  much,  now 
to  night."  And  that  was  the  Creed  that  sustained  her.  Un- 
learned in  books,  she  read  her  Bible  and  made  her  own  happy 
Holy  Creed. 

I  lately  talked  with  another  dear  saint  ninety-three  years 
old.  She  said  '1  always  tried  to  do  good.  I  helped  others  all 
I  could.  I  have  had  many  afflictions  but  I  know  there  is  laid 
up  for  me  a  crown  of  glory,  and  I  just  wait  the  dear  Lord's 
call.  I  am  anxious  to  go  home".  Creeds  they  have  none,  dear 
Saints  on  the  border  land  of  Heaven.  I  am  thankful  that  they 
are  free  and  I  am  free,  and  that  no  one  can  make  me  accept  a 
Creed  that  is  unworthy  of  God  or  man. 

When  the  day  comes  that  all  accept  the  simple  Creed  of 
Jesus  Christ,  the  Ten  Commandments  and  the  Beatitudes,  the 
world  will  be  a  sweeter  and  better  place  than  now.  We  shall 
live  to  see  our  work  all  done  like  those  dear  old  Saints  whose 
creeds  are  their  own,  and  we  shall  leave  life  satisfied,  like 
children  going  on  a  happy  journey,  and  our  friends  will  not 
weep,  they  will  wave  us  loving  "good  byes",  and  sing  in  joy 
"We  shall  meet  again".  And  Creeds  shall  be  no  more. 


316  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

HONORS  AND  APPRECIATION 

I  often  see  pictures  of  men,  across  whose  breasts  are 
strung  medals,  and  decorations  of  various  sorts.  I  think  I 
never  saw  a  woman  so  decorated  except  now  and  then  a 
woman  of  a  so  called  "royal  house",  with  perhaps  one  honor- 
ary decoration.  Clara  Barton  had  many  decorations  but  she 
never  used  them.  American  men  and  women  are  chary  of 
showing  the  honors  they  have  won  in  the  battle  of  life.  It 
seems  to  me  we  ought  to  know,  for  such  things  are  astimulous 
to  others  to  strive  after  the  best.  I  know  what  others  have 
done  gave  me  an  impulse  to  do.  So  I  feel  no  shame  when  I 
narrate  the  honors  I  have  won,  as  I  did  all  I  could  to  make  life 
worth  while,  in  my  day. 

I  sometimes  look  at  a  military  gentleman  in  books  or 
papers,  and  I  wonder  at  the  medals  and  other  decorations  of 
honor  pinned  or  sewed  upon  his  breast.  Sometimes  there 
seems  hardly  room  for  them.  I  admire  and  do  not  grudge  him 
one  of  them.  I  remember  Peace  hath  her  honors  as  well  as 
war,  and  I  wonder  if  L  string  my  honors,  not  on  my  breast,  but 
across  this  page,  if  some  will  smile  and  jibe,  and  if  you  wish 
to  smile  who  read,  I'll  smile  with  you  and  feel  no  pain.  It 
was  not  easy  to  win  these  honors  the  warrior  wears,  and  that 
I  wear;  it  took  great  labor.  It  may  inspire  others  to  make 
efforts  to  win  what  these  honors  represent,  and  in  that  belief 
I  record  them. 

An  Indian  must  kill  a  man  before  he  is  accounted  worthy 
to  be  called  one.  The  honors  the  fighter  wins  means  lives  of 
many  sacrificed  to  win.  My  Honors  run  across  the  years 
as  follows: 

I  am  the  first  graduate  of  a  law  school  in  the  world  and 
am  a  Bachelor  of  Laws.  (B.  L).  I  can  by  right  call  myself  a 
Doctor  of  Philosophy  (Ph.  D.),  was  ordained  a  minister  of  the 
gospel  by  my  church;  have  been  a  Notary  Public  four  times; 
have  been  elected  to  school  offices  twice,  serving  six  years;  was 
Editor  of  a  vigorous  temperance  monthly  paper  eleven  years; 
have  held  office  in  the  National  W.  C.  T.  U. ,  State  offices  in 
the  same,  and  still  hold  county  and  local  offices.  I  belong  to 
the  Daughters  of  the  American  Revolution  on  ancestral  records 


A  LOVE  STORY  317 

and  am  a  member  of  the  Eastern  Star,  and  of  a  Missionary 
Society.  I  was  a  teacher  of  children  for  many  years  handling 
thousands  of  them;  I  lectured  for  a  number  of  years,  as  well  as 
preached ;  I  am  an  honorary  member  .of  the  Illinois  State  Bar 
Association,  and  of  the  Illinois  Mexican  War  Veterans.  I  am 
a  good  nurse,  and  a  good  veterinarian  doing  surgical  as  well  as 
other  work  though  I  have  no  degree  in  the  last  two,  I 
think  I  ought  to  have.  I  am  versed  in  all  the  household  arts, 
and  I  can  cut  and  make  garments  for  children  and  men  and 
women,  including  tailor  work  in  cloth  as  well  as  in  other  goods 
and  I  can  teach  others.  I  am  as  good  a  milliner  as  goes  and 
make  my  own  hats.  I  am  a  club  woman,  and  was  the  Presi- 
dent of  a  High  Cult  Emerson  Club  for  13  years.  I  am  a 
practical  and  successful  farmer  and  stock  raiser,  and  an  or- 
chardist.  I  have  never  fooled  away  my  time,  and  I  have  had 
delight  in  my  work  with  its  many  hardships,  but  it  was  worth 
while,  and  all  my  Honors  have  meanings  to  me,  and  have  had 
appreciators.  In  the  hope  I  may  inspire  some  to  find  higher 
delight  in  life  I  place  them  on  this  page. 

I  have  been  invited  to  take  part  in  National  gatherings  for 
the  discussion  of  disease  and  crime,  but  was  too  much  engaged 
to  accept.  When  I  did  my  best,  and  I  always  worked  hard,  I 
was  grateful  for  the  appreciation  the  honor  showed  me. 


318  .       A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

PRAYER. 

A  man  of  intelligence  once  said  to  me  that  it  was  perfectly 
ridiculous  to  pray.  He  added  that  the  idea  of  God  spending 
His  time  on  all  the  foolish  prayers  of  men  and  their  little  af- 
fairs, was  absurd.  But  I  protested,  '  'Cannot  you  conceive  of  a 
man  or  woman  being  so  formed  that  when  they  lift  the  voice 
and  heart  and  mind  in  honest  aspiration  to  God,  that  forces 
awake  in  him  or  her,  and  forces  may  awake  elsewhere,  that 
will  result  in  fruits  from  prayer"?  He  thought  for  a  moment 
and  then  replied,  "Well,  that  might  be". 

Our  Bible  teaches  us  to  pray.  Many  writers  taught  and 
teach  of  prayer.  Many  testify  to  its  efficacy.  Testimony  comes 
from  everywhere.  In  the  human  soul  and  heart,  there  is  de- 
sire for  prayer,  and  that  repressed  breaks  out  in  moments  of 
great  mental  and  spiritual  and  bodily  stress.  I  have  a  book  of 
striking  illustrations  on  this  subject.  I  read  it  often  and  have 
learned  of  its  worth  and  value.  They  who  pray,  must  reap 
much  from  it.  Prayer  brings  us  in  harmony  with  the  best 
minds  of  the  ages,  and  lifts  us  to  the  highest  in  ourselves,  God. 

When  the  body  and  mind  are  awry,  what  lifts  the  spirit  up 
and  refreshes  both  body  and  spirit  like  a  simple  prayer?  "Oh 
God,  lift  me  out  of  the  body  into  the  Spirit  and  bless  me",  at 
any  hour  of  the  day  or  night  a  suffering  soul  and  body  and 
spirit  can  cry  out. 

What  consolation* to  send  a  wireless  message  to  those  we 
love,  via  the  currents  of  the  soul,  under  God.  When  we  must 
lay  down  all  we  love  and  cherish  forever,  what  soothes  the 
soul  and  brings  peace,  and  even  joy,  like  prayer.  The  rebelli- 
ous spirit  is  quelled  by  it,  and  the  prayer  sustains  and  soothes 
pain  and  death. 

We  are  told  to  pray,  to  ask  what  we  will.  I  pray  for  all 
sorts  of  things  for  myself,  for  my  friends,  for  anything  that  I 
may  care  for;  that  my  things  may  be  cared  for.  I  pray  for  my 
cattle;  we  ship  horses  from  France  where  the  peasants  take 
their  stock  to  the  Church  yards  to  have  God's  blessing  asked  on 
them.  I  pray  for  my  fields,  my  orchards,  and  for  my  helpers; 
for  things  I  do,  or  am  about  to  do;  for  direction  that  I  may  not 
do  foolish  things.  And  many  other  prayers  that  might  seem 


A  LOVE  STORY  319 

silly  to  others;  I  pray  for  anything;  for  I  am  but  a  child  in  wis- 
dom, and  I  know  account  will  be  made  for  me.  "Pray  without 
ceasing"  is  a  command.  I  try  to  obey  it.  Jesus  prayed  till  he 
sweat  blood,  we  are  told.  He  gave  us  that  prayer  we  give  His 
name,  "The  Lord's  Prayer".  The  Bible  is  full  of  Prayer;  our 
own  beings  should  be.  Prayer  is  in  harmony  with  the  psychic, 
which  is  of  the  soul,  and  which  is  above  and  controls  the  body. 

THE  PRAYER  JESUS  TAUGHT  MEN. 

"Our  Father  which  art  in  Heaven;  hallowed  be  thy  name; 
Thy  kingdom  come,  Thy  will  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in  Heaven. 
Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread,  and  forgive  us  our  trespasses 
as  we  forgive  those  who  trespass  against  us;  and  lead  us  not 
into  temptation,  but  deliver  us  from  evil  for  Thine  is  the  King- 
dom and  the  power  and  the  glory  forever— Amen". 

THE  PRAYERS  OF  JESUS. 

The  Prayer  in  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane— before  the  Cru- 
cifixion: 
"Father  If  it  is  possible  let  this  cup  pass  from  me". 

On  the  Cross: 

"Father  forgive  them,  they  know  not  what  they  do". 

THE  PRAYER  OF  DAVID. 

One  of  the  most  beautiful  ever  uttered.  Every  man,  woman 
and  child  should  say  it  each  day. 

"Search  me  oh  God  and  know  my  heart;  try  me  and  know 
my  thoughts;  and  see  if  there  be  any  wicked  way  in  me,  and 
lead  me  in  the  way  everlasting". 

Let  all  men  and  women  pray  this  prayer  and  live  it,  and 
we  shall  have  revolutions  for  good  everywhere. 

A  PRAYER  IN  AFFLICTION. 

'  'Oh  Heavenly  Father,  help  me,  sustain  me.  Sanctify  this 
affliction  to  my  good." 


320  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


A  PRAYER  IN  TROUBLE  AND  UNREST. 

"Oh  £k)d,  my  Heavenly  Father,  quiet  me?    Lift  me  out  of 
the  flesh  into  the  Spirit  and  bless  me  with  peace." 
To  be  repeated  over  and  over  again. 

THE  CHILD'S  PRAYER. 

A  prayer  that  almost  all  mothers  teach  their  children,  and 
that  the  Great  Chief  Justice,  John  Marshall,  and  Neal  Dow,  said 
every  day  of  their  lives. 

'  'Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep, 

I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  keep; 

If  I  should  die  before  I  wake, 

I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  take. —Amen". 

IN  SICKNESS. 

"Oh  Lord,  fill  me  with  Thy  peace, 
Restore  my  body  and  spirit." 

FOR  ONE  IN  SICKNESS. 

"Heavenly  Father,  bless  this  dear  sick  one,  and  give  heal- 
ing from  the  plenitude  of  thy  power". 

WHEN  A  DUMB  FRIEND  PAYS  ITS  DEBT  TO  NATURE. 

'  'I  thank  Thee  Lord  for  the  love  of  this  dear  dumb  Friend 
of  mine,  who  taught  me  to  look  to  Thee  in  love,  as  it  looked  up 
to  me  in  affection.  I  thank  Thee  for  the  comfort  and  consola- 
tion it  brought  into  my  life,  and  that  I  know  was  from  Thee". 
Amen. 


A  LOVE  STORY  321 

THE  CREED  OF  JESUS. 

Mankind  has  been  taught  from  the  beginning  by  every 
creed  of  every  people  that  the  most  important  question  for 
men  and  women  to  settle  is,  "What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved". 
Saved  from  what?  Well,  saved  from  a  malignant  Devil;  a  ma- 
lignant God,  a  Hell  of  fire  and  brimstone,  where  the  worm 
dieth  not,  and  that  catches  and  holds  a  poor  human  wretch 
forever  and  forever. 

When  Jesus  Christ  was  on  the  earth,  a  certain  lawyer  stood 
up  and  tempted  him  we  are  told  .and  asked  this  question, 

"Master  what  shall  I  do  to  inherit  eternal  life"?  Jesus 
said,  ' '  What  is  written  in  the  law,  how  readest  thou?' '  and  he 
answering  said. 

"Thou  shall  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart  and 
with  all  thy  soul  and  with  all  thy  strength  and  with  all  thy  mind, 
and  thy  neighbor  as  thyself.  And  he  (Jesus)  said  unto  him, 
Thou  hast  answered  right;  this  do  and  thou  shalt  live."— Luke 
10:  25,  26,  27,  28  verses. 

Here  is  the  whole  question,  and  the  answer  in  a  nut  shell. 
To  use  the  words  of  Jesus,  man  to  be  saved  must  first  love  God 
with  all  his  powers,  and  then  he  must  love  his  brother  man  the 
same  way  he  loves  himself;  and  this  Jesus  declares  is  what  a 
man  must  do  "to  inherit  eternal  life"  or  win  salvation. 

We  are  told  in  Mathew,  chapter  22,  that  a  lawyer  asked 
Jesus  again,  "Master  which  is  the  great  Commandment  in  the 
laiv"?  and  "Jesus  said  unto  him,  Thou  shalt  love'  the  Lord  thy 
God  with  all  thy  soul  and  with  all  thy  mind.  This  is  the  first 
and  great  Commandment,  and  the  second  is  like  unto  it,  Thou 
shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself.  On  these  two  Commandments 
hang  all  the  law  and  the  prophets". 

A  scribe  came  to  Jesus  and  asked  him  '  'Which  is  the  first 
Commandment  of  all"?  ' 'And  Jesus  answered  him,  The  first 
of  all  the  Commandments  is,  "Hear  0,  Israel;  the  Lord  thy 
God  is  one  Lord;  and  thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all 
thy  heart  and  with  all  thy  mind  and  with  all  thy  strength;  this 
is  the  first  commandment.  And  the  second  is  like,  namely  this; 
Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself.  There  is  none  other 
Commandment  greater  than  these".— Mark  12;-28  to  33d  vs. 


322  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

I  call  this  the  Creed  of  Jesus,  for  there  is  nothing  higher 
can  be  taught,  and  in  the  love  of  God,  and  love  to  our  neighbor 
is  all  that  is  needed  for  a  man's  salvation.  The  creeds  of  men 
fall  into  ruins  before  this  simple  creed  of  Christ,  which  includes 
everything  that  is  necessary  to  the  salvation  of  a  man  from  his 
lower  self,  and  for  his  uplift  to  the  highest  we  know.  There  is 
not  a  man  or  woman  in  the  world  but  can  accept  it  fully  and 
freely;  the  Brahmin,  Boodist,  Zorastrian,  Confucian,  Moham- 
medan, Jew,  Greek,  Catholic,  Protestant,  Indian,  the  Negro  of 
the  Congo,  the  highest,  the  lowest  can  accept  it;  it  is  so  simple 
and  clean  cut  and  clear  that  all  can  understand  it,  and  all  can  use 
it.  What  a  contrast  to  the  awful  creeds  created  by  men. 

I  have  heard  the  creed  of  Jesus  mentioned  as  a  noble 
thought,  but  I  have  never  heard  it  preached  as  a  creed,  or 
claimed  as  a  creed  except  by  myself.  I  did  not  see  it  as  a  creed, 
myself  for  a  long  time;  we  are  so  clouded  by  strange  things,  we 
are  not  always  free  to  think.  When  the  Church  rejects  the 
creeds  of  men  and  accepts  this  simple  creed  of  Christ  and 
teaches  it,  till  all  accept  it  and  live  by  it,  what  a  change  the 
world  over  will  appear. 

Pundita  Ramabai,  the  learned  Hindoo  woman  and  Philan- 
thropist, said,  "I  do  not  understand  your  creeds".  She  joined 
the  Christ  and  His  simple  creed,  and  not  any  other  made  by 
men.  Let  us  accept  and  teach  the  simple  creed  of  Jesus  and  so 
win  salvation.  The  Church  united  on  the  creed  of  Jesus  would 
move  with  tremendous  power  upwards  and  onward.  It  is  a 
creed  of  love,  and  all  could  and  would  accept  it,  and  then  grow 
into  the  divine  life  exemplified  by  Jesus. 


A  LOVE  STORY  323 

RICH  DEVIL— POOR  GOD. 

Admitting  the  possibility  of  the  Devil,  I  have  oft  times  felt 
constrained  to  say,  when  I  meditate  on  the  brothels,  the  dram 
shops  and  the  gambling  devices  that  afflict  our  cities  and  towns 
everywhere,  both  great  and  small,  and  the  world  over,  at  Street 
Fairs  and  Carnivals,  where  the  saloons  and  brothels  furnish  the 
most  of  the  money  to  get  a  large  portion  of  the  gain,  and  when 
the  Church  women  run  little  eating  stands  to  get  a  few  dollars 
for  the  Lord;— I  am  oft  times  constrained  to  say  "I  congratu- 
late the  Devil,  he  has  so  many  friends;  and  I  feel  sorry  for  poor 
God  who  seems  to  have  so  few".  My  Mother  once  had  a  very 
pious  Catholic  girl  who  worked  for  her,  and  in  winter  when  she 
fed  the  fire  she  would  often  draw  a  long  sigh  and  say,  "Ach 
Gott,  how  many  burn  in  hell".  It  looks  as  if  the  Church  would 
fight  the  Devil  with  vigor,  but  everywhere  we  find  houses  in  which 
are  brothels,  and  dram  shops  owned  by  Church  members,  who 
get  much  gain  from  these  rentals.  Many  vote  for  the  saloons 
and  pool  rooms,  and  are  hot  for  everything  that  corrupts  youth, 
so  they  get  a  dollar.  If  the  poor  preachers  make  too  much  fuss 
about  evils  which  exist,  they  are  in  many  places  admonished  to 
cease  being  too  radical,  or  they  will  have  to  go.  So,  '  'Auld  Cloo- 
tie" seems  to  be  getting  on  quite  well,  and  "Poor  God' '  seems  to 
behaving  a  hard  time  to  hold  His  own,  while  "the  Devil"  is  rich 
in  friends  and  favors. 


324  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

A  FREETHINKER. 

' '  What  is  man  that  Thou  art  mindful  of  him  and  the  Son  of 
man  that  Thou  visitest  him?  Thou  hast  made  him  a  little  lower 
than  the  Angels  and  crowned  him  with  glory  and  honor;  Thou 
hast  put  all  things  under  his  feet."— Bible. 

"We  shall  judge  Angels",  says  Paul  in  an  ecstacy" 

"For  man  the  living  temple  is, 
The  mercy  seat  the  Cherubim, 
And  all  the  holy  mysteries 
He  bears  with  him."  -  Whittier. 

Of  a  mixed  theological  ancestry  I  came  upon  the  stage  of 
life  prepared  to  be  a  heretic,  in  other  words  a  Free  Thinker. 
On  my  Mother's  side  there  were  Catholics,  and  in  the  Papist 
persecutions  in  England  my  Mother's  fathers'  people  fled  to 
Alsace  and  Loraine  where  they  lived  long  enough  to  lose  two 
letters  from  their  English  name.  There  came  a  day  when  the 
family  emigrated  from  that  French  German  province  of  the  old 
world  and  came  to  America,  settled  in  Pennsylvania  where  the 
younger  set  of  the  family  restored  the  missing  letters  of  their 
name. 

My  Grandfather  was  raised  from  home  and  became  a  zealous 
pioneer  Methodist;  his  sisters  kept  the  old  faith  and  were  Cath- 
olics. At  Somerset,  Ohio,  where  my  maternal  Grandparents 
lived,  Gen'l  Phil  Sheridan  was  born  and  raised,  and  other  Cath- 
olic men  of  note,  the  Bulgarian  War  correspondent  Mac  Gahan, 
the  Shermans  and  Ewings,  notable  Catholics  all  of  them, 
came  from  that  vicinity.  My  Grandfather's  Catholic  an- 
tecedents were  well  known,  and  when  St.  Joseph's  Cath- 
olic Church  was  built  at  Somerset,  my  Grandfather  who  was 
a  blacksmith,  was  given  the  order  for  the  iron  used,  and 
thereon  he  stamped  his  name.  The  Church  felt  it  had  a 
claim  on  him,  as  he  was  baptised  in  the  communion,  but  all  the 
Catholic  zeal  "bred  in  his  bones"  was  used  for  the  Church  of  his 
choice  which  was  the  Methodist,  and  his  house  was  a  post  where 
pioneer  preachers  put  up  free.  The  great  bake  oven  in  the 


A  LOVE  STORY  325 

kitchen  frequently  turned  out  a  hundred  pies  for  Quarterly 
Meeting,  and  bread  and  meat  in  proportion.  My  Grandmother 
always  felt  the  subtle  charm  of  the  Catholic  Church  and  feared 
her  children  would  be  drawn  that  way,  and  two  did  become 
high  Church  Episcopalians  eventually.  The  School  of  St.  Joseph 
for  boys,  and  the  Convent  of  St.  Mary  for  girls  were  built  in 
the  little  town  of  Somerset,  and  those  two  became  an  influence 
which  every  child  of  that  Community  felt,  and  I  was  born  in 
that  village.  My  Mother's  maternal  Grandfather,  Wm.  Temple 
Coles,  was  educated  for  the  established  Church  in  Ireland,  and 
owned  an  estate  there.  He  came  at  an  early  age  to  Saulsbury, 
North  Carolina,  where,  as  long  as  he  lived,  he  was  an  interest- 
ing figure,  giving  land  for  public  uses  to  that  City  and  other- 
wise a  vital  force.  He  was  an  officer  of  the  crown,  an  organizer 
of  the  Episcopalian  Church  at  Saulsbury  and  one  of  its  officers, 
and  an  ardent  Mason.  He  hated  slavery  and  always  said  God 
would  raise  up  a  Moses  for  the  blacks.  When  the  Revolution- 
ary War  came  on  he  was  an  ardent  Tory,  but  his  two  children, 
Henrietta  Maria  named  for  an  English  Queen,  and  his  son, 
William  Temple  Coles,  Jr.  were  both  Rebels;  the  Son  being  a 
Captain  in  the  4th  Carolina  Regiment;  the  daughter  doing  hard 
work  to  help  the  cause;  the  two  entitling  with  others  of  their 
kin,  their  descendants  to  become  Sons  and  Daughters  of  the 
American  Revolution. 

On  my  Father's  side  were  "blue-nosed,'  Presbyterians"  and 
I  think  most  of  the  other  Churches  had  representatives  among 
us.  My  Mother,  first  a  Methodist,  became  a  follower  of  the 
Christian  Doctrine,  expounded  and  exemplified  by  Emanuel 
Swedenborg.  My  Father  owned  allegiance  to  no  Church  after 
he  was  turned  out  of  the  Methodist  Church  which  he  joined  to 
please  my  Mother,  for  being  late  one  Sunday  morning. 

Among  us  at  an  early  day  there  were  psychists,  spiritulists, 
followers  of  that  splendid  belief,  who  repudiated  the  horrors  of 
the  old  orthodoxy  and  accepted  freedom  and  love  under  God.  My 
father's  mother  who  had  suffered  a  deep  wound  for  righteous- 
ness sake  by  the  Presbyterian  Church  she  belonged  to,  repudiated 
the  Church  and  said  she'd  not  belong  "because  there  were  too 
many  hypocrites  in  the  Church".  Yes,  she  was  a  noble  and 
good  woman  and  her  Bible  was  her  daily  companion,  and  to  her 


I 


326  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

teachings  I  owe  much,  for  as  a  child  she  taught  me  to  love  right- 
eousness, and  to  hate  wrong  and  evil. 

My  people  were  strong  minded,  and  high  minded,  and  free 
with  their  ideas  and  their  tongues.  An  observant  thinking 
child,  knowing  and  hearing,  is  preforce  moulded.  I  was  by  na- 
ture devout  and  religious,  but  as  the  years  came  on  I  began  to 
see  that  the  most  desirable  thing  for  a  human  soul  was  to  have 
freedom  of  thought,  and  I  learned  that  no  one  had  the  right  to 
suppress  it,  and  that  no  one  had  the  right  to  limit  it;  that  no 
one  had  the  right  to  make  a  creed  for  me;  that  it  was  my  duty  in 
the  fear  of  God  to  evolve  my  own  creed,  and  that  I  did  myself 
a  wrong  to  permit  any  one  to  make  a  creed  for  me.  In  all  Na- 
ture no  two  things  are  alike,  all  differentiate;  no  tree,  no  plant, 
no  chrystal,  no  bee,  no  bird,  no  leaf,  no  hand,  no  foot,  no  body, 
no  mind,  all  differ;  and  the  Great  Soul  over  all,  is  so  manifold 
and  full  of  power  He  needs  every  human  being  that  ever  was 
or  ever  is,  or  ever  will  be,  to  express  His  Infinitude.  If  we 
think  in  blocks  and  masses  we  cannot  be  free;  we  cannot  develop 
the  individual  as  he  or  she  should  be.  When  one  gets  freedom 
before  God,  then  comes  real  growth  and  development,  and  in 
that  source  from  which  we  come,  there  is  plenty  for  each  one 
in  freedom,  an  unfailng  Spring;  life  would  have  a  zest  if  we 
were  free,  a  zest  that  it  now  too  often  lacks  and  men  would 
rise  Godward  instead  of  sinking  downward  into  dull  lives  begot 
by  harsh  untruthful  Creeds. 

The  old  faiths  were  in  my  bones  and  flesh  and  flowed  in  my 
blood;  it  was  hard  to  get  free.  I  suffered,  my  soul  was  in  tra- 
vail before  the  Great  Source  of  things  and  men,  and  life  and  love; 
my  reason  and  my  heart  rose  in  revolt;  but  at  last  I  was  free;  I 
became  a  Free  Thinker.  God  is  the  Great  Centre  of  all  things. 
We  are  told  "Out  of  the  heart  are  the  issues  of  life".  Love 
and  reason  are  seated  in  honor  before  their  author,  God.  Right- 
eousness is  the  great  end  and  aim  of  life,  for  by  it  we  adjust 
all  things  to  truth,  and  truth  is  God. 

Theological  dogmas  are  not  of  God;  they  are  Frankenstein 
monsters,  that  are  not  only  horrible  to  see  and  think  of,  but  in 
the  end  turn  upon  their  makers  and  pursue  them,  and  destroy 
them  and  their  works. 

The  sooner  the  old  Creeds  and  dogmas  pass,  the  better  for 


A  LOVE  STORY  327 

human  kind.  Men  and  women  everywhere  are  thinking  with 
free  minds.  Let  the  slate  be  wiped  clean;  let  us  begin  anew. 
What  is  hell  and  the  devil  anyway,  and  damnation,  except  work- 
ing hypothesis  for  dead  creeds.  The  old  things  have  passed 
away;  already  we  have  the  conception  of  a  New  Heaven  and  a 
New  Earth  as  a  working  hypothesis  for  men;  we  need,  we  must 
think  free— be  Free  Thinkers,  if  we  would  think  God's  thoughts 
after  him. 


EMERSON  AND  THE  HOTTENTOT. 

There  was  a  time  in  my  life  I  would  not  discuss  dogmas 
with  any  one.  I  was  busy  with  other  things  and  like  Paul, 
considered  it  was  "not  expedient"  then.  I  had  a  dear  old  Or- 
thodox friend  who  "pestered"  me  to  debate  with  her.  Finally 
I  told  her  it  was  no  use,  I  would  not.  "But",  I  said  "I  will 
submit  a  proposition  to  you.  According  to  your  belief,  Emerson, 
who  is  Hetrodox,  will  go  to  hell,  and  a  Hottentot,  who  accepts 
the  doctrine  taught  him  by  a  Missionary,  will  go  to  Heaven. 
Now,  what  could  the  Lord  do  with  a  Hottentot?  and  what  could 
the  devil  do  with  Emerson?"  She  took  it  well;  and  after  that 
she  no  longer  pressed  me  to  debate  the  relative  merits  of  He- 
trodox and  Orthodox  religions.  I  hope  she  grew  in  Freedom  of 
thought. 


328  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

FREE  MASONS. 

The  men  of  my  family  were  all  devoted  to 
Free  Masonry.     I  never  heard  my  Mother  com- 
plain of  lodges.     My  father  kept  his  family  well 
supplied  with  good  literature  on  the  subject  and 
we  read.     Masons  do  not  usually  admit  women 
to  their  lodges,  but  it  has  been  done.     The  Free 
Masons   of  York,    England,   and  the   Mexican 
Masons  have  both   admitted   women    to  their 
lodges.     Judge  James  C.    Bradwell  of  Chicago 
gave  me  an  exhaustive  treatise  on  the  subject, 
and  he  was  an  ardent  Free  Mason.     I  am  attached  to  the  order 
because  it  taught  and  held  to  Freedom,  and  its  name  is  still  a 
shield,  for  and  a  spur  to  that  end. 

I  have  never  cared  to  know  the  secrets  of  Masonry;  thev 
are  of  small  importance  compared  with  the  magnificent  beauty 
of  its  religion,  its  symbolism,  its  philosophy,  its  teaching  of  the 
fatherhood  of  God  and  the  brotherhood  of  man.  The  plumb, 
the  line  and  the  square,  are  needed  in  the  building  of  human 
lives.  Because  it  was  free,  Masonry  taught  the  Fatherhood 
of  God  and  the  Brotherhood  of  Man  before  freedom  was,  and 
before  Christ  came;  the  whole  world  became  in  time  honey- 
combed by  this  doctrine,  and  by  the  order,  that  leveled  all  men 
to  one  status.  Masonry  became  the  Sesame  that  opened  the 
hearts  and  brains  of  men  to  the  highest  teachings— Free  Mas- 
onry. Because  the  world  was  not  up  to  its  ideals  it  often 
received  punishment,  and  punishment  followed  its  teachings, 
and  that  is  not  ended  yet;  but  Masonry  still  lives  and  will  live  to 
the  end  of  time. 

Free  Masonry  is  the  fruitful  Mother  of  all  the  fraternal 
orders  and  is  not  surpassed  by  any  child  it  has;  but  it  needs  to 
go  deep  into  its  hidden  springs  and  drink  there,  and  hold  to  the 
old  fealty  of  the  Craft,  which  it  is  said  began  with  the  Crafts- 
man at  the  building  of  Solomon's  Temple,  with  Hiram  the 
Architect  at  its  head.  "He  did  all  the  craft  direct  how  they 
should  build".  The  old  lodge  song  says. 

"Solomon  Israel's  great  King 
Did  mighty  blessings  bring; 
And  taught  us  how  to  sing 
Great  God  our  King." 


A  LOVE  STORY 


329 


KNIGHTS  TEMPLARS  PILGRIMAGES. 

Knights  Templary,  cruelly  persecuted 
and  almost  destroyed  by  the  Church  it 
loved  and  served,  turned,  when  there  are 
no  other  Sanctuary,  to  Free  Masonry, 
which  before  any  other  association  of 
men  mastered  and  declared  Freedom, 
and  the  Fatherhood  of  God  and  Brother- 
hood of  Man,  and  embraced  it,  and  be- 
came finally  its  glory. 

Mr.  Kepley  was  a  Knight  Templar, 
belonging  to  Godfrey  de  Bouillion  Com- 
mandery  No.  44  of  Mattoon,  Illinois. 

In  the  year  1874  the  Triennial  Pil- 
grimage or  Conclave  for  the  United 
States  was  planned  for  New  Orleans, 
La.,  and  the  trip  was  arranged  to  be  by 
water  down  the  great  Mississippi  River. 
There  were  some  fine  passenger 
boats  running  then,  and  the  Thompson 
Dean  under  Capt.  Paul,  a  well  known 
and  old  time  river  captain,  and  the  Great 
Republic  of  St.  Louis  were  chartered 
for  the  journey.  The  Illinois  Command- 
erys  went  via  the  Illinois  Central  and 
other  routes  to  Cairo,  and  the  most  of 

them  took  passage  on  the  Thompson  Dean.  From  other  states 
many  went  to  St.  Louis  and  took  the  Great  Republic.  The 
Thompson  Dean  had  the  start  and  one  could  see  how  anxious 
her  passengers  wanted  to  lead,  and  get  to  New  Orleans  first. 
One  could  feel  the  spirit  that  made  the  old  time  steamboat  races 
on  the  Mississippi  so  much  in  favor  and  fame  at  an  earlier  day. 
Our  passengers  could  not  bear  to  be  second,  and  rejoiced  mightily 
that  our  boat  finally  reached  the  dock  at  New  Orleans  ahead  of 
her  companion.  Captain  Paul  reminded  me  of  a  solemn  Pres- 
byterian preacher;  he  fully  appreciated  the  dignity  and  sacred- 
ness  of  his  task,  and  couldn't  have  been  betrayed  into  any 


330  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

foolish  act,  such  as  racing.  He  had  a  precious  cargo  on  his 
hands  and  he  felt  his  responsibility. 

The  Knights  Templars,  as  a  rule,  are  people  of  education, 
attainments  and  culture;  to  be  a  Sir  Knight  implies  much  on 
these  lines.  The  Social  life  on  the  trip  was  charming.  The 
meals  were  unsurpassed.  The  Mississippi  passenger  boats  had 
a  reputation  that  was  of  the  best;  the  dinners  and  suppers  were 
like  Banquets  every  day.  The  tables  were  served  by  colored 
men,  to  whom  serving  seemed  a  high  pleasure;  and  when  the 
string  band  began  to  play  the  choicest  music,  eating  seemed  an 
aesthetic  and  poetic  exercise,  robbed  of  all  its  grosser  features. 
The  scenery  along  the  banks,  the  little  towns,  the  islands  in 
the  river,  stable  and  fluctuating,  the  places  made  famous  by  the 
Civil  War,  the  landings  where  we  stopped  to  take  on  wood  and 
freight,  made  every  day  a  new  event.  Sometimes  a  number  of 
the  passengers  ran  ashore  and  gathered  leaves  and  plants  and 
souvenirs  from  off  the  banks.  Every  evening  it  was  dancing 
and  card  playing,  and  singing  and  knitting  and  embroidering 
and  sewing  and  visiting,  by  the  ladies,  and  a  general  good  time 
for  all  who  enjoyed  these  occupations  and  sports.  As  we 
travelled  farther  South  we  enjoyed  the  trees  draped  in  gray 
moss,  and  mistletoe.  Mist  hung  over  the  river  like  a  curtain 
often,  and  the  Thompson  Dean  blew,  and  blew,  her  whistle, 
and  we  hoped  we'd  not  run  into  some  other  boat.  The  water 
was  cold,  so  cold  one  couldn't  have  lived  long  in  it.  I  thought 
that,  every  time  I  washed  my  hands.  We  stopped  at  Vicks- 
burg  and  took  in  that  old  city  which  Grant  bombarded  and  cap- 
tured, and  that,  in  its  early  history  was  a  rendezvous  for 
thieves  and  cut- throats;  that  was  in  flat  boat  days  when  Abra- 
ham Lincoln  used  to  go  to  New  Orleans. 

We  had  an  ovation  from  the  Vicksburgers  who  drove  us 
all  over  the  City  in  carriages  and  showered  the  women  with 
roses.  At  Memphis  we  took  to  the  land  and  snatched  a  little 
pleasure  from  that  city  safe  and  sound,  30  feet  above  high 
water  mark.  The  water  in  the  river  grew  clearer  the  farther 
South  we  went.  It  almost  made  one  shiver,  to  look  at  the  levies 
which  seemed  such  a  puny  obstacle  to  that  tremendous  old  river, 
which  sometimes  breaks  through  everything  in  spite  of  the  best 
work  of  man,  suV merges  land,  drowns  cattle  and  horses  and 


A  LOVE  STORY  331 

other  farm  stock  and  sometimes  people,  and  drags  houses  and 
barns  with  a  mighty  pull  to  destruction.  Well,  I  saw  them* 
heave  the  lead  and  call  "Mark  Twain"  and  use  all  the^other 
lingo  of  a  Mississippi  steam  boat,  and  I  remembered  that  "Mark 
Twain"  who  ran  this  old  river  in  an  early  day  and  gathered  up 
and  cultured  the  things  that  made  the  world  roar  with  his  "In- 
nocents Abroad"  and  "Tom  Sawyer"  and  "Huckelberry  Finn" 
and  "Pudden  Head  Wilson",  and  who  touched  our  hearts  with 
his  sweet,  sad  story  "Joan  of  Arc"  the  most  beautiful  of  all  thej 
things  he  wrote,  and  who  taken  in  and  broken  up,  rose  like  a 
wounded  lion,  shook  his  shaggy  head,  amassed  a  fortune,  when 
he  was  no  longer  young,  and  paid  the  last  cent  he  owed,  and 
left  a  legacy  not  only  of  tremendous  probaty  to  his  native  land, 
but  gifts  to  help  others;  he  lived  in  solitude  because  he  loved 
one  woman  with  his  whole  soul  and  mind  and  heart  and  was 
faithful  to  her. 

We  visited  the  Thompson  Dean  all  over,  saw  the  great  fur- 
naces that  drove  the  engines,  that  created  the  power  that  pro- 
pelled our  boat,  the  grimy  crew  who  tended  them,  and  laughed 
to  hear  the  negro  roustabouts,  who  sang  their  peculiar  melodies 
and  patted  for,  and  danced  "Juba"  on  the  lower  deck. 

The  State  House  at  Baton  Rouge  and  a  glimpse  of  the  city 
was  most  picturesque;  the  old  live  oaks  were  magnificent  in  size 
and  hoary  with  growing  moss  that  festooned  them  in  long  soft 
drapery. 

'  'Here  stand  the  forests  primeval, 
The  murmuring  pines  and  the  hemlocks 
Bearded  with  moss, 
And  gray  and  indistinct  in  the  twilight". 

Oh,  it  seemed  we  were  in  fairy  land.  Every  moment  of  the 
daylight  was  a  pleasure.  The  tide  water  showed  us  we  neared 
our  goal,  and  we  came  into  the  harbor  at  New  Orleans  one 
evening,  nosing  our  way  among  all  sorts  of  river  craft,  and 
tied  up,  ahead  of  the  Great  Republic,  to  everybody's  pleasure. 

We  had  quarters  on  the  boat,  but  some  went  to  Hotels, 
some  to  friends.  The  Sir  Knights  paraded  the  streets,  held 
their  meetings,  elected  officials,  attended  Banquets  and  other 
honorary  affairs;  meantime,  going  to  see  all  places  of  interest 
in  the  City  and  round  about.  Some  went  down  to  the  Eads  Jet- 


332  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

ties;  everybody  took  in  Lake  Ponchartrain  and  the  Shell  road; 
visited  the  French  Market  with  its  mixture  of  French,  Creoles, 
Spanish,  negroes,  and  other  peoples  from  everywhere.  We 
went  to  Biloxi  and  I  caught  a  real  crab  in  the  gulf,  and  I  took 
off  my  shoes  and  stockings  and  waded  in  the  Atlantic.  I've 
waded  in  the  Atlantic  and  the  Pacific  Oceans,  in  the  Missis- 
sippi River,  'in  the  Merced  River  in  the  Yosemite,  and  in  the  lit- 
tle Wabash,  Fulfer  and  Salt  Creeks,  and  in  many  other  lesser 
streams  and  in  Lake  Michigan.  I  like  to  wade,  but  that  is  as 
far  as  I  want  to  go  into  a  stream. 

I  wondered  where  Lafcadio  Hearn  learned  of  the  aw- 
full  "Moo"  and  "drag"  of  the  sea,  in  the  Gulf,  and  the  ter- 
rible power  of  wind  and  water  that  he  pictures  in  "Chita". 
The  awful  Galveston  disaster  was  written  in  "Chita".  Hearn 
might  have  been  there  and  seen  and  heard  it  all;  and  I  think 
when  the  sea  gets  ready  again,  she  can  tear  out  the  great  sea 
wall  at  Galveston  like  straw.  I  would  not,  I  could  not  endure 
to  live  where  the  water,  fresh  or  salt,  could  take  me  when  it 
got  ready.  The  thought  makes  me  shudder,  I  can't  help  it; 
the  thought  is  an  awesome  one,  and  that  was  why  I  did  not  fully 
enjoy  the  water  we  floated  on  to  go  to  New  Orleans  in  1874. 

We  visited  the  awful  Cemeteries,  the  statues  which  adorn 
the  city;  the  canals,  and  saw  and  heard  alligators  and  caught  a 
little  one  with  a  silver  quarter  and  fetched  it  home.  We  took 
in  orange  groves,  eating  tropical  fruits  in  plenty,  for  the  Sici- 
lians flooded  the  city  when  the  K.  T's  were  there.  We  went  to 
General  Jackson's  old  Battle  Ground;  visited  the  National  Ceme- 
teries where  our  soldiers  lie  row  upon  row  beneath  grassy  cov- 
erings, and  read  the  words  that  recorded  their  virtues,  and  said 
"Amen".  In  the  harbor  of  New  Orleans  were  two  war  vessels 
and  a  Monitor  which  the  Sir  Knights  who  wished  visited  and 
examined;  we  visited  their  Jack  Tars  saw  their  bunks  and  ham- 
mocks, the  officer's  quarters  and  admired  the  immaculate  clean- 
liness and  tidiness.  I  learned  what  is  meant  by  keeping  things 
"shipshape".  I  learned  how  to  keep  things  in  my  house  by 
that  visit  to  the  war  ships.  I  much  enjoyed  the  ride  in  the 
"gigs"  which  took  us  to  and  from  the  shore,  and  ships  and  which 
were  manned  by  mariners  with  their  own  "bos'on;"!  didnot  en- 
joy going  under  water  in  the  Monitor. 


A  LOVE  STORY  333 

With  her  lack  of  sewers,  New  Orleans  is  a  clean  city.  It 
was  General  Ben  Butler  who  taught  the  South  yellow  fever  was 
a  filth  disease,  and  how  to  clean  their  towns  and  keep  the  yel- 
low fever  under.  How  much  abuse  Ben  Butler  had  to  suffer  at 
New  Orleans.  He  was  a  tender-hearted  man  and  charitable, 
merciful  and  God  fearing,  and,  like  Mark  Twain  he  loved  one 
woman  with  all  his  heart  and  when  she  was  no  more  her 
memory  was  dearer  than  another  to  him.  He  was  a  patriot  of 
high  type.  He  had  a  hard  task  to  keep  things  in  order  in  New 
Orleans,  but  he  did  it.  I  admire  and  revere  Ben  Butler's  mem- 
ory. 

The  docks  full  of  cotton  and  freight  of  every  sort,  full  of 
negro  stevedores  working,  singing,  dancing  and  laughing,  was 
a  wonderful  picture.  The  U.  S.  Mint  interested  everybody  for 
we  all  visited  it,  as  we  also  did  the  Cotton  exchange,  the  old 
Cathedrals  and  Churches  and  the  quaint  old  houses.  We  saw 
all  George  Cable  told  us  of  in  his  books;  but  I  would  not  live  in 
New  Orleans.  It  seems  to  me  some  day  it  too  will  slip  into  the 
river. 

The  Knights  Templars  had  a  glorious  time,  holding  meet- 
ings, parading,  banqueting,  and  visiting  everywhere  in  and 
about  the  city,  and  so  had  their  ladies,  who  were  Pilgrims  with 
them,  and  we  were  all  ready  to  go  home  when  time  was 
called.  Some  took  the  cars,  not  wishing  to  travel  up  the  river 
which  was  the  slow  route,  but  Mr.  Kepley  and  I  returned  as  we 
went,  on  the  Thompson  Dean,  to  Cairo  that  watery  city  at  the 
confluence  of  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi,  and  that  has  a  good 
chance  to  be  washed  away  some  day  too,  I  think,  if  the  "bigste" 
Fresh  comes. 


HO-HO  FOR  THE  GOLDEN  GATE. 

In  August  of  1883,  the  Triennial  Conclave  of  the  Knights 
Templars  was  held  in  San  Francisco,  Cal,  and  the  Section  to 
which  we  belonged  gathered  into  St.  Louis  via  the  Vandalia, 
the  Missouri  Pacific,  and  other  Railroads,  taking  the  U.  P. 
Route  West.  The  Northern  Pacific  was  not  finished  in  those 
days,  and  the  Sir  Knights  went  by  the  U.  P.  Route,  returning 


334  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

by  the  Southern  Pacific  to  the  East— the  most  of  them. 

This  was  our  first  visit  to  the  Pacific  Coast,  as  it  was  to  the 
majority  of  the  Sir  Knights,  and  it  was  full  of  novel  and  de- 
lightful things.  The  great  stretches  of  the  plains,  the  dust  of 
the  deserts,  the  Salt  Mountains,  the  snow  sheds  into  which  we 
dashed  and  then  raced  out  again,  the  terrific  heights  from 
which  we  looked  down  into  the  valleys  far  below,  the  winding 
around,  and  creeping  and  crawling  along  the  sides  of  Moun- 
tains to  reach  our  goal,  were  full  of  interest. 

At  Humbolt,  that  little  oasis  in  the  desert,  where  the  river 
disappears  in  the  sand,  we  had  breakfast;  I  wandered  along 
the  track,  and  up  jumped  a  real  live  Indian  from  the  sage  brush 
so  suddenly  it  scared  me  for  a  moment.  We  saw  Indians  all 
along  going  and  coming— men,  women  and  babies,  remnants  of 
the  tribes  that  once  peopled  the  plains. 

In  Colorado  the  Knights  Templars  visited  Manitou  with 
Glen  Ellyn  and  Ute  Pass,  Pikes  Peak,  and  other  points  of  inter- 
est, going  up  the  peak  on  foot  or  horse;  the  railroad  was  not 
then  done.  We  also  visited  the  Garden  of  the  Gods,  Cave  of 
the  Winds,  Clear  Greek  Canyon,  Green  Lake,  Leadville,  Grand 
Canyon  and  other  places.  I  gathered  and  pressed  flowers  all 
along  the  way  and  have  them  yet  as  souvenirs. 

We  took  in  Salt  Lake  City  and  the  Great  Salt  Lake,  and  saw 
the  bathers  in  ridiculous  array  bobbing  up  and  down  in  the  blue 
water  that  no  one  could  drown  in.  We  visited  the  fourteenth 
Ward  Meeting  House  Sunday  School,  and  I  sat  in  a  class  which 
studied  the  book  of  Mormon ;  I  made  acquaintance  of  and  talked 
to  the  polygamous  child  of  a  well  known  Mormon,  and  called  on 
her  Mother,  and  let  her  talk  to  me  about  the  beauties  of  '  'the 
Plural  Order  of  Celestial  Marriage."  They  were  intelligent 
people;  the  young  girl  was  a  school  teacher.  Her  Mother  was 
from  the  Isle  of  Man.  I  asked  the  School  teacher  if  the  Sunday 
School  Superintendent  was  a  polygamist  and  she  said,  "Yes", 
and  she  told  me  a  little  story  that  was  considered  quite  a  joke 
on  him  by  the  Mormons.  He  had  a  wife,  but  she  had  no  child- 
ren and  she  became  conscience  stricken  because  they  had  none. 
She  urged  him  to  marry  another  woman  and  help  build  up  the 
Kingdom  of  God  by  adding  children  to  it.  He  protested,  but 
she  finally  had  her  way  and  he  married  a  second  wife.  "But", 


A  LOVE  STORY  335 

said  the  school  Miss,  smiling,   "there  were  no  children",  and 
that  was  a  little  joke  on  him  as  a  Mormon. 

I  visited  the  Deseret  Hospital  and  met  Zina  D.  Young,  one 
of  the  older  wives  of  Brigham  Young;  and  Dr.  Kate  Hughes 
who  had  charge  of  the  Hospital.  Dr.  Kate  was  well  educated 
and  obtained  her  degree  as  an  M.  D.  in  a  Philadelphia  School  of 
medicine.  I  inquired  how  the  Mormon  women  could  endure 
Polygamy,  but  Dr.  Kate,  the  younger  woman,  and  Zina,  the  old 
Saint  gave  me  a  most  enthusiastic  account  of  its  beauties.  I 
said  to  Zina,  "Which  of  a  man's  wife  makes  him  the  most 
trouble  about  his  marriages"?  And  Zina  said,  with  emphasis 
'  'The  bad  ones' '  '  'The  bad  ones' ' .  Dr.  Kate  gushingly  declared  it 
just  wiped  out  all  prolonged  hard  feelings  in  families;  Dr. 
Kate  afterwards  served  in  the  Mormon  Legislature,  and  mar- 
ried a  husband  and  had  a  child  I  think.  Zina  was  an 
able  and  vigorous  woman,  much  looked  up  to;  she  made  me  a 
gift  of  a  book  of  poetry  by  Eliza  R.  Snow  Smith  Young,  who 
had  a  gift  of  rhyming;  she  was  another  gusher  for  polygamy.  I 
met  Emeline  Wells  and  subscribed  for  two  years  to  her  paper— 
The  Mormon  Women's  Exponent.  She  was  the  sixth  wife  of 
Daniel  Wells.  I  met  and  conversed  with  Romania  Pratt  who 
conducted  a  school  of  Midwifery.  Zina  Young,  boasted  to  me 
at  that  time,  August  1883,  that  there  were  thirty-two  thousand 
children  under  eight  years  of  age  in  Utah;  they  teach  their 
women  they  will  be  lost  if  they  refuse  to  have  children,  and 
that  is  the  way  Mormonism  is  built  up.  Emeline  Wells  loaned 
me  a  book,  ''The  Women  of  Utah"  to  read,  for  I  could  not  find 
one  to  buy  like  it;  I  returned  it  to  her  later  on.  I  talked  with 
a  number  of  men,  and  they  one  and  all  declared  Polygamy  the 
real  thing,  though  the  women  all  admitted  it  was  a  state  of 
suffering  for  them,  for  which  they  would  get  their  rewards 
hereafter.  I  said  "You  do  not  live  for  this  world  then"?  "Oh 
no  all  for  the  other  world".  I  bought  me  a  stock  of  Mormon 
books,  and  I  studied,  and  conversed  with  Mormons,  and  I  am  in 
entire  agreement  with  Ex-Senator  Frank  Cannon,  that  the 
Mormon  leaders  are  liars,  every  one  of  them;  and  I  am  con- 
vinced the  United  States,  ought  to  pass  a  law  making  Polygamy 
an  offense  against  the  General  Government  like  counterfeiting 
money  is.  I  always  feel  proud  to  think  Judge  Zane  of  Illinois 


336  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

was  the  first  territorial  Judge  who  convicted  Mormons.  I  saw 
him  once  at  Springfield,  111. ;  he  was  a  red  headed  bluff  old 
gentleman  with  no  nonsense  about  him.  He  ruled  all  Mormons 
off  Juries,  and  he  got  convictions,  and  punished  offenders  who 
committed  Polygamy.  If  I  were  Mayor  of  Effingham  or  any- 
where else,  I  would  not  let  Mormons  preach  on  the  streets  any 
more  than  I'd  allow  train  robbers  or  horse  thieves  to  advocate 
their  business.  I'd  tell  them  to  move  on.  I  told  some  of  them 
once  who  were  preaching  on  the  streets  of  Effingham,  that  I 
thought  as  the  head  of  their  Church  had  a  herd  of  six  wives 
and  a  herd  of  forty  odd  children,  that  they  had  a  lot  of  gall  to 
preach  in  our  County.  With  a  meaching  air  the  leader  said 
"Thank  you  Mam".  My,  if  I  had  only  been  Mayor!  They 
have  not  preached  on  the  streets  of  Effingham  since  that, 
though  they  no  doubt  will  again,  as  they  often  have  before. 
They  have  a  Church  in  the  Southwest  corner  of  Effingham 
County —thanks  to  some  of  Pandora's  folks  who  let  them  into  the 
School  Houses  to  preach.  I  broke  up  preaching  in  our  school 
houses  by  Mormons  finally,  but  a  little  gang  of  them  had  got 
going.  I  say  things  to  them  when  I  have  a  chance,  in  hopes  to 
turn  their  minds  to  better  things,  but 'they  are  "sot". 

Lake  Tahoe  in  the  mountains  was  not  a  resort  when  we  saw 
it.  It  was  a  beautiful  place. 

I  picked  up  a  strange  stone  on  the  R.  R.  track  in  the  Truck- 
el  Canyon,  for  we  had  quite  a  stop  there,  and  a  Sir  Knight  from 
Virginia  to  whom  I  showed  it,  said  it  was  a  petrified  sponge.  I 
suppose  the  great  sea  left  it  in  that  gorge  of  the  mountains  in 
some  of  its  overflows,  Eons  gone. 

I  was  glad  we  had  breakfast  in  Cheyenne,  for  the  women 
voted  there.  We  saw  great  Hydraulic  Engines  tearing  away 
the  mountain  sides  to  get  the  gold  hid  in  them,  as  we  drew  near 
San  Francisco,  and  finally  we  landed  there  to  enjoy  the  cold 
winds  from  the  sea  in  the  mornings,  and  the  milder  afternoons, 
and  eat  the  sweet  little  oysters  they  gather  on  the  coast.  We 
did  all  the  local  things,  the  Zoo  and  Botanical  Gardens,  that 
strange  place  Chinatown,  in  the  shops,  then  down  three  stories 
under  ground  where  Chinese  were  packed  like  sardines  in  a 
case,  gambling  and  smoking  opium. 

We  visited  a  Chinese  Restaurant  kept  by  a  six  footer  of  a 


A  LOVE  STORY  337 

Chinaman,  and  saw  a  sort  of  Banquet  where  the  men  sat  at 
the  table  and  the  women  behind  their  lords  and  masters,  who 
gave  them  "tid  bits"  from  time  to  time.  We  drank  tea  made 
in  the  Chinese  style  in  this  restaurant,  and  some  of  the  ladies 
were  so  frightened  at  the  Chinese,  one  of  them  nearly  fainted,  ha, 
ha.  China  town  was  kept  as  a  show.  .It  could  easily  have 
been  squelched.  But  at  that  time  Dennis  Kearney  needed  it 
to  whet  his  fulminations  on  the  Chinese.  We  visited  some 
Christianized  Chinese;  such  charming  people,  who  could  speak 
intelligently  of  the  Chinese  question.  I  visited  the  Presby- 
terian Mission  which  helped  Chinese  girls  sold  as  slaves,  for 
vice,  to  get  away  from  that  life.  It  was  a  place  of  exciting 
adventures,  and  sometimes  murder  was  done  their  girls.  I 
visited  a  woman  with  a  "lily  foot,"  and  pursuaded  her  to  let 
me  see  it.  I  paid  her  $1.00  for  her  shoes  and  the  sight  of  her 
"golden  lily  foot".  I  also  obtained  a  photo  of  a  bound  foot. 
Eli  Perkins,  who  was  once  at  my  home  for  a  little  reception, 
said  it  was  difficult  to  see  such  a  foot  or  get  a  picture  of  it.  I 
obtained  the  photo,  through  the  Missionaries.  The  Chinese 
were  very  polite  in  the  stores,  even  when  people  were  exceed- 
ingly rude  to  them,  but  to  gentlemen  and  ladies  they  showed 
their  best  in  manners  and  in  goods.  Some  day  I  wonder  if  the 
hordes  of  China  will  overflow  the  world  as  the  Goths  and  Van- 
dals poured  over  the  world  once  and  changed  its  civilization. 

The  Chinese  are  building  railroads  and  are  moving  up  to 
civilized  ways,  in  war,  as  well  as  in  the  Arts,  and  run  as  a  Re- 
public now,  -and  enfranchised  their  women  strange  to  say. 
If  Christian  peoples  were  to  accept  and  teach  the  Creed 
of  Jesus,  and  live  by  the  Ten  Commandments,  and  Beatitudes, 
the  peoples  of  the  earth  would  become  homogenious,  wars  would 
cease,  and  men  of  all  Nations  would  take  hold  of  the  skirt  of 
him  who  was  a  Christian  and  say  '  'I  will  go  with  thee  for  I  see 
that  God  is  with  thee",  and  there  would  be  peace  everywhere; 
but  that  is  a  dream  of  Millenium,  that  will  come  true  some  day. 

Nearly  everybody  now  knows  the  sights  in  and  about  San 
Francisco;  the  Cliff  house  with  her  sea  lions,  the  great  Pacific 
Ocean  rolling  in  laden  with  sea  weeds;  the  grapes,  figs,  straw- 
berries in  August;  every  sort  of  fruit  from  oranges,  limes, 
lemons  and  plums  to  apples  and  nuts  galore  for  food  and  re- 


338  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

freshment,  and  the  Sir  Knights  had  it  all  with  wine,  wine,  wine, 
if  they  wanted  it,  from  the  great  wineries,  and  then  the 
flowers,  poinsettas,  lillies,  roses— every  thing  in  the  world  of 
flowers  grows  there. 

On  the  great  ship,  the  Ancon,  we  went  on  the  blue  waters 
of  the  bay  out  to  the  Headlands  and  upon  the  open  sea.  It  was 
a  trip  worth  while,  if  Neptune  did  not  call  for  oblations.  I  got 
off  scot  free  and  took  in  all  I  could,  and  snuffed  the  sea  breeze 
from  the  upper  deck,  but  many  were  laid  out  and  some  were 
very  busy  treating  the  sea  to  the  best  they  had  on  hand.  I 
kept  away  from  all  that  and  enjoyed  my  first  and  only  sail  on 
the  Pacific.  At  Santa  Clara  I  gathered  sea  weeds,  where  they 
came  in  by  the  wagon  load,  and  I  have  them  pressed  in  an  album 
yet.  I  saw  for  the  first  time  what  Longfellow  told  us  in 
"Seaweeds":— 

"When  descends  on  the  Atlantic  the  gigantic  storm  wind  of 
the  Equinox, 

Landward  in  his  wrath  he  scourges  the  boiling  surges, 

Laden  with  seaweeds  from  the  rocks". 

Longfellow  had  not  seen  the  Pacific  when  he  wrote  that, 
but  the  seaweed  came  in  on  the  Pacific  beaches  just  as  it  did  on 
the  shores  of  the  Atlantic, 

The  City  of  The  Angels,  Los  Angeles,  was  not  of  the  im- 
portance, nor  in  the  Public  eye,  as  it  is  since  the  McNamaras 
blew  up  buildings  with  high  explosives,  and  the  women  of 
California  vote.  It  did  not  take  long  those  days  to  exhaust  the 
City  of  Angels;  but  here  we  took  the  route  to  the  great  Yose- 
mite  Valley,  down  to  Merced  by  rail,  and  from  there  by  stage 
and  horses  to  the  great  gash  in  the  Sierra  called  the  Yosemite 
Valley.  Now  a  days  the  most  of  the  travel  into  this  beautiful 
and  wonderful  valley  is  by  way  of  a  railroad;  this  was  pros- 
pected but  not  finished  in  1883.  At  Merced  the  tourists  piled 
into  a  great  coach,  built  on  massive  springs  and  drawn  by  five 
horses.  The  coach  would  carry  fourteen  or  fifteen  people  by 
squeezing,  and  we  were  squeezed. 

The  place  of  honor  was  by  the  driver  whose  seat  was 
elevated.  The  foot  hills  passed  we  came  to  "Clarks",  a  famous 
hostelry  in  the  mountains  where  accomodations  were  excellent. 
Tourists  from  all  over  the  world  came  here.  There  were  bears, 


A  LOVE  STORY  339 

wolves,  sometimes  lions,  and  wildcats  in  the  mountains,  with 
deer  and  other  game  those  days,  and  the  night  we  spent  there 
a  gang  of  coyotes  came  near  the  Hotel  and  gave  a  serenade  in 
their  best  style,  I  tried  to  wake  up,  but  though  Mr.  Kepley 
shook  me  his  best  and  called,  I  could  only  say  "uh  hu"  to  his 
demands  that  I  listen.  It  is  like  a  dream  to  me.  I  was  too 
awfully,  awfully  tired  with  the  bouncing  up  and  down  in  that 
big  stage,  and  going  up  and  down  over  hills  and  hollows,  to 
wake  up.  Our  driver  weighed  about  250  avoirdupois  and  I 
learned,  by  seeing  him,  how  to  take  bounces  at  bad  places.  He 
was  a  sight  when  his  arms  swung  loose  and  he  bounced. 

By  daylight  we  were  up  and  off  for  the  Valley,  and  we 
began  to  climb  the  mountains  is  good  earnest.  The  stage  had 
now  six  horses,  hitched  two  by  two,  for  the  road  was  usually 
very  narrow  on  the  mountain  side,  and  sometimes  when  our 
leaders  turned  a  corner  they  were  out  of  sight  behind  the  rocks. 
It  was  exciting  for  us  when  we  galloped  along;  we  could  look 
thousands  of  feet  far,  far  below  and  a  slip  in  the  road  would 
have  tumbled  us  over  to  destruction,  and  now  and  then  a  stage 
did  upset.  We  were  shown  where  a  few  days  before  a  stage  was 
held  up  by  robbers  and  everybody's  pockets  looted.  I  was  glad 
we  escaped.  At  Inspiration  Point  the  valley  bottom  was  three 
thousand  feet  below;  it  made  me  shake,  and  some  stout  men 
said  "This  is  terrible";  there  was  nothing  but  a  narrow  shelf  on 
the  mountain  side  to  hold  to,  and  that  awful  abyss  below.  We 
could  see  the  mountains  peak  on  peak  for  miles  around  us.  I 
collapsed  and  had  to  go  to  bed,  and  be  looked  after  and  teaed,  be- 
fore I  could  go  about.  The  Great  Yosemite  Falls  twenty-seven 
hundred  feet  high  had  run  dry,  for  the  season  was  very  hot, 
but  the  Bridal  Veil  blew  softly  to  and  fro  like  a  soft  tissue, 
from  a  tremendous  height.  The  Merced  River  ran  swiftly 
through  the  Valley  after  its  stupendous  tumble  of  seven 
hundred  feet  at  Vernal  Falls.  We  went  to  Mirror  Lake  and 
our  Guide  gave  a  "hallo"  and  woke  echo  after  echo  from  the 
bald  summits  of  the  mountains  round  about.  I  was  moved  to 
repeat  Tennyson's  Lines  from  the  "Bugle  Song" 

"Oh  hark— oh  hear,  how  thin  and  clear, 
And  thinner,  clearer  farther  going, 


340  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

As  near  and  far  from  cliff  and  scar 
The  horns  of  Elfland  faintly  blowing." 

Dear  me,  not  a  soul  was  in  unison;  they  did  not  "sabe"  at 
all;  I  had  as  well  addressed  myself  to  the  tall  summits  of  the 
mountains  overhead.  While  a  number  of  the  Sir  Knights  took 
a  pack  of  lankey  steeds  and  climbed  the  mountains  to  see  Vernal 
Falls  tumble  700  feet  over  the  rocks,  and  get  scared  almost  to 
death  in  fear  of  falling  off  the  narrow  foot  paths  on  the  jagged 
rocks  below,  and  then  came  back  by  Snows  and  the  ragged 
rocks,  I  stayed  in  the  valley,  gathered  wild  flowers,  met  the  Ar- 
tist Thomas  Hill,  who  painted  the  historic  meeting  of  the  East 
and  West  ends  of  the  U.  P.  R.  R.,  and  waded  in  the  edge 
of  the  Merced  River  bare  footed.  I  wanted  to  take  a  boat 
ride  but  no  one  would  accomodate  me;  they  said  it  was  danger- 
ous, the  water  was  deep  and  swift,  and  we  might  upset.  The 
Merced  is  so  clear  one  can  see  the  bottom  and  it  is  full  of  beau- 
tiful trout  that  may  be  seen  from  the  bridges  that  span  it. 
Mr.  Hill  spent  his  vacation  here  and  fished  for  trout.  His  hat 
was  stuck  full  of  fishing  flies,  and  other  paraphernalia  of  a 
fisherman.  We  had  some  trout  for  breakfast,  but  they  had 
been  out  of  cold  storage  too  long,  and  I  only  sniffed  them. 
There  was  an  old  German  who  lived  in  the  Valley  who  made 
beautiful  inlaid  wood  work.  Mr.  Kepley  gave  me  a  twelve 
inch  ruler  inlaid  with  all  the  Yosemite  woods.  I  found  a  great 
Cone  ten  or  twelve  inches  long  under  a  huge  sugar  pine  tree 
several  hundred  feet  high.  The  squirrels  had  not  gnawed  at  it 
yet.  One  seldom  finds  a  perfect  cone.  At  the  great  Sequoyas 
visited,  we  took  in  two  groups  of  them,  the  Calaveras  and  the 
Monteray,  we  drove  through  the  butt  of  one  which  had  been 
cut  out  and  which  let  our  stage  through  with  ease.  One  of  the 
keepers  gave  me  a  cone  of  the  sequoyas,  to  my  great  pleasure. 
They  are  quite  small,  strange  to  say,  though  from  the  largest 
trees  men  know.  I  stepped  out  of  the  stage  at  a  place  called 
Chinqipin  Flat,  on  our  way  out  as  we  stopped  for  repairs  of 
some  kind,  and  stretched  out  on  the  pine  needles  which  covered 
the  ground.  I  had  always  heard  it  was  a  delightful  experience, 
so  I  tried  it,  gathering  also  some  pine  cones  for  souveniers.  I 
shall  not  soon  forget  the  balsamic  odors  of  the  place,  nor  the 


A  LOVE  STORY  341 

hour,  nor  the  glamour  of  the  great  trees  under  which  I  reposed 
for  a  while. 

Our  Knights  were  going  home  single  and  in  bunches  and 
by  car  loads.  They  had  paraded  and  marched  and  banqueted 
and  danced  and  had  every  sort  of  a  good  time  in  California  and 
along  the  route  and  I  think  a  number  of  them  went  back  to 
California  to  stay.  My  Sir  Knight  and  I  took  the  Southern 
Pacific  at  Merced  and  "trekked"  for  home.  We  crossed  the 
Mohave  Desert.  We  made  a  stop  at  El  Paso,  crossed  the  Red 
waters  of  the  old  Rio  Grande  River,  to  Paso  del  Norte,  had 
the  customs  officers  claw  into  our  satchels  for  countrabrand 
goods,  and  then  ran  down  to  the  old  city  of  Chihuahua,  with  its 
old,  old  Cathedral,  whose  old  bell  has  a  hole  bosedbya  Cannon- 
ball.  We  saw  its  adobe  and  stone  houses,  its  queer  wagons,  and 
horned  cattle;  we  saw  women  washing  in  the  streams  and  hang- 
ing the  clothes  on  the  sand  to  dry;  we  heard  the  people  sneeze 
and  cough,  hawk  and  spit;  drank  goats  and  donkey  milk  mixed 
in  our  coffee;  and  ate  food  cooked  on  clay  hearths  without  stoves, 
and  by  a  Chinese.  It  was  interesting  to  see  those  people  in  the 
midst  of  civilization  living  like  the  ancient  peoples.  We  stopped 
at  Sweetwater  in  Texas,  a  most  forlorn  little  town,  took  a  team 
and  carriage  and  drove  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  into  the 
Pan  Handle;  to  visit  some  land  we  owned.  That  was  a  wild 
country  in  those  days  with  sheep  and  goat  and  cow  ranches, 
and  dug  outs  for  dwellings.  The  man  who  guided  us  the  first 
day  out,  was  afterwards  hanged  for  cutting  a  cow  puncher's 
throat.  We  slept  on  several  nights  at  Ranches  where  there  were 
only  men,  but  had  I  been  the  Queen,  I  couldn't  have  been  better 
treated.  We  had  many  curious  adventures  on  this  trip;  some- 
times we  slept  on  the  ground  out  of  doors.  We  met  Mexicans, 
Texans,  Alabamians,  Missouri  and  Illinois  men,  in  these  lonely 
places,  where  cattle  raising  was  -the  only  business,  and  few 
women  and  children  were  seen.  Oh,  it  was  a  wild,  lonely  drive 
and  we  saw  many  strange  things  among  the  rest  wolves;  we 
were  lost  once,  and  only  the  fact  that  Mr.  Kepley  was  raised  in 
half  pioneer  days  saved  us  from  serious  trouble,  for  the  roads 
were  mostly  cow  trails,  and  ranches  thirty  and  forty  miles  apart. 
Water— well  it  was  scarce.  We  had  some  in  a  keg  and  some- 
times our  horses  had  none  all  day.  But  we  got  back  to  Sweet- 


342  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

water  at  noon  of  the  sixth  day,  just  as  the  bells  and  whistles 
sounded  the  hour  of  noon.  The  people  really  seemed  glad  to  see 
us.  They  thought  we  were  "tender  feet"  bent  on  trouble. 
The  seasonal  rains  were  impending  and  that  meant  swollen 
streams  and  there  were  no  bridges  and  there  were  quicksands 
in  many  streams.  We  had  no  company  that  trip,  only  we  two, 
so  it  did  look  as  if  we  were  foolish,  but  we  came  out  all  right. 
.We  got  our  trunks  and  valises  out  of  the  Express  office  where 
we  left  them,  and  soon  landed  at  home  tired,  but  satisfied  Pil- 
grims. 

Other  Triennials  have  been  held  on  the  Pacific  Coast  since, 
but  I  think  none  could  have  been  quite  as  interesting  as  this 
first  one.  How  like  a  dream  it  all  is  now  as  I  live  upon  my  farm. 
I  think  of,  and  enjoy  it  over  and  over  again,  but  though  I  am 
wooed  and  wooed  to  live  in  California,  I  had  rather  live  in  good 
old  Illinois  and  on  this  side  of  the  Rockies.  We  are  not  so  pro- 
vincial who  live  in  the  Middle  West;  life  is,  it  seems  to  me, 
larger  and  more  varied.  No,  I  had  rather  live  in  Illinois. 
That  "Glorious  City",  of  San  Francisco,  climate  and  all,  might 
sink  into  the  sea  some  day,  if  the  earth  forces  were  to  awaken 
as  they  did  not  long  ago  under  this  great  City  by  the  Sea.  I 
wrote  a  little  sketch  of  the  San  Francisco  Pilgrimage  which  was 
published  in  the  Alta  Californian. 


A  LOVE  STORY  343 

THE  RED  CROSS  KNIGHT. 

THE  PILGRIMAGE.    SAN  FRANCISCO  1883. 

From  East,  from  West,  from  North,  from  South  they  come, 

The  fellow  soldiers  of  our  Master,  Christ, 

In  Conclave  meet,  with  wisdom  to  devise 

And  plan  the  work,  and  ways  of  Templar  Knights. 

From  bustling  marts  of  labor,  and  from  shades 

Of  pleasant  village  homes,  and  fertile  farms, 

From  rugged  mountain  sides,  from  level  plains, 

From  lake  and  sea  and  river's  pebbled  brim, 

They  tread  their  pilgrim  journey  to  the  West, 

And  seek  the  "City  of  the  Golden  Gate". 

The  captive  elements  bend  low,  and  yield 

To  puny  man  obedience;  time  melts  away, 

Space  vanishes,  when  labor  swart,  and  capital 

Serve  each  the  other  well. 

Along  the  iron  highways  speed  the  trains, 

Freighted  with  precious  lives;  through  day  and  night, 

The  solemn,  silent  night,  they  climb  the  heights, 

Higher,  ever  higher,  to  purer  air, 

The  heights  sublime,  yet  awful  in  their  power, 

To  hush  the  idle  word,  and  bate  the  breath; 

The  <(Red  Cross  Knight"  anew  treads  "Fairy  Land". 

He  sees  above  him  tower  the  cragged  rocks, 

While  'he,  a  pigmy,  crouches  at  their  feet, 

And  calls  the  echoes  to  cry  back  at  him 

From  heights  he  cannot  reach. 

The  mountain  streams— like  waters  of  "Lodore" 

Run  down,  they  brawl,  they  rush,  the  thunder  in 

Their  beds  of  rock— their  golden  sands  have  lured 

More  to  their  doom,  than  Lorelei  or  than  Nix; 

Anon,  they  thumble  down  from  heights  severe 

Like  misty  clouds  that  hide  a  bride's  sweet  face, 

And  shine  through  rainbow  colors  at  their  feet. 

The  hollow  caverns  of  the  hills  so  lone 

And  solitary  for  long  Eons,  now  resound 

With  human  voices,  and  reveal  themselves  to  men. 


344  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

On  hill  and  mountain  meadow,  dainty,  sweet, 
Upspring  the  scented  sage,  the  daisy  fair, 
The  asters,  monkshood,  painted  cup,  and  rose, 
The  mountain  columbine,  the  larkspur— loved 
Of  children— and  the  yarrow— faithful  friend- 
While  many  a  common  weed  looks  friendly  welcome  up. 
Across  the  hillocked  plains,  through  canyons  deep 
Defiles,  a  city  of  the  plains  uplifts, 
"The  City  of  the  Saints",  embowered  in  fertile  shades 
Which  industry  and  thrift  have  wrested  from  the  waste, 
Of  barrenness  and  bitter  desolation. 
Down  from  their  springs,  the  crystal  waters  run, 
Diverted  to  the  feet  of  herbage  sweet, 
Of  leafage,  and  of  flower,  and  fruit  and  field 
Until  it  smiles  the  "Rose  of  Deseret"; 
But  ah, — the  waste  of  joy  and  happiness 
In  human  hearts,  that  bear  a  cross,  a  woe, 
That  e'en  the  desert's  desolation  pales. 
Across  the  dusty  plain  whose  pungent  clouds 
Rise  always  to  the  sky  we  press  along; 
'Tis  here  where  fell  the  early  pioneers; 
'Tis  here  their  bodies  festered  in  the  sun; 
And  left  their  bones  to  bleach  to  dust  again; 
'Tis  here  the  shallow  mounds  marked  shallower~graves, 
'Tis  here  earth,  sky  and  mountain  shed  no  boon 
Of  waters  sweet  and  pure  for  man  or  beast, 
And  so  they  died. 

The  savage  of  the  plains  has  vanished ; 
Like  desert  rivers  swallowed  in  the  waste 
They  vanish,  and  are  only  known  by  those 
Who  hang— pariah  outcasts— on  its  verge. 
Where  waters  sweet  break  forth  the  desert  smiles 
And  earth  gives  forth  its  blessings  to  mankind 
A  guerdon  of  redemption  to  the  waste. 
Now  far  above  the  earth  we  skim  like  birds, 
From  narrow  ledges  looking  down  beneath 
To  where  the  rivers  shrink  to  silver  threads 
And  men  melt  into  specks  upon  the  plain; 
The  hawk  sails  far  below. 


A  LOVE  STORY  345 

Above  us  rise  the  peaks  serene  in  upper  air, 

Below  the  jagged  rocks  speak  menance  still. 

Embosomed  in  the  peaks  repose  the  lakes, 

Clear,  pure  and  sweet,  they  mirror  back  again 

Primeval  pines  and  cedars  to  the  view, 

The  silvery  clouds  cast  shadows  over  all. 

In  deeps  no  plummet  sounds  rich  gems  lie  hid; 

Their  finny  tribes  flash  back  from  silvery  sides 

The  sunlight  deep  below; 

We  "round  the  Horn",  and  pass  the  scarred  hills 

Where  Mongol  labor  wrests  from  earth  her  gold, 

To  fill  the  vaults  and  conquer  earth  for  men. 

A  tender  haze  of  blue  dims  all  the  hills, 

As  down  the  canyon  steep  we  toil  and  curve, 

And  loop  and  bend,  and  round  the  mountain's  base  and 

side, 

To  valleys  rich  and  rare  far  down  below. 
Now  break  the  peaceful  waters  on  the  view 
Of  weary  Knights;  the  countless  towers  and  spires   • 
Of  "Frisco"  rise,  to  greet  his  wondering  eyes— 
This  world  within  a  city— which  may  type 
The  brotherhood  of  man,  and  of  our  God 
The  Fatherhood  and  love. 
Into  this  City  has  been  poured  the  wealth 
The  mountains  hoarded  through  the  ages  hoar, 
The  treasure  rivers  gathered  from  the  hills. 
Nature  has  lavished  here  her  choicest  stores 
For  man  and  beast.     Would  man  could  yield  these  boons 

in  kind  again! 

So  endeth  now  the  journey  to  the  rim 
Of  Western  lands. 


THE  KNIGHT'S  MISSION. 

To  spread  the  Gospel,  and  redress  foul  wrongs, 
The  Red  Cross  Knight  first  entered  in  the  field. 
To  fight  the  cause  of  truth,  and  error  slay, 
Was  his  first  task  in  years  now  long  agone. 


346  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

He  guarded  in  his  soul  with  knightly  zeal, 

The  "Holy  Mysteries",  with  discourse,  arms, 

Life,  faculties,  all  consecrate  to  this. 

In  kindly  courtesie  he  hailed  his  friends; 

To  foes,  though  they  outnumbered  three  to  one, 

He  turned  no  recreant  face,  but  strong  and  free, 

In  purity,  and  firm  in  valorous  faith, 

He  struck  the  foe  or  perished  in  the  fray; 

His  sword  once  drawn,  ne'r  sheathed  itself  in  vain; 

No  craven  fear  of  death  e'er  dimmed  his  soul— 

The  glorious  cause  he  loved  gave  holy  fire, 

Which  saw  the  end  secure,  nor  counted  lost 

A  life's  blood  spent  to  win  it. 

In  white  attire  of  innocence  arrayed, 

He  led  the  pilgrims  bands  in  fierce  crusades, 

'Gainst  those  who  held  the  gentle  Master's  tomb 

In  Moslem  hands  most  vile, 

He  lifted  from  the  dust  his  fellow  man; 

To  ladies  in  dstress  gaive  aid  most  courteous. 

His  was  the  task  to  'stablish  among  men 

The  reign  of  Christ,  the  Lord,  the  Master  soul 

Whose  Kingdom  is  to  come  in  all  the  earth. 

Oh,  gentle  Knight,  the  hour  draweth  nigh, 

That  shall  test  Knightly  souls,  if  that  they  be, 

In  panoply  for  war,  for  Holy  war, 

That  shall  set  up  the  Kingdom  of  our  Lord, 

On  earth,  that  "Peace  shall  be,  and  good  will  to  all  men". 

The  Holy  Mysteries  of  Brotherhood, 

Of  Wifehood,  and  of  childhood,  and  of  Home  cry  out  to  thee! 

Fierce  is  the  cry  of  labor— 'twill  not  down— 

It  grins  and  clacks  its  teeth  in  sturdy  wrath,  and  will  be 

heard; 

The  wailing  cry  of  childhood  goeth  up 
From  mills  and  crowded  marts; 
In  prison  cells,  bright  youth  lie  hid  away ; 
The  air  is  heavy  with  the  rain  that  beats 
Down  mothers'  withered  care-worn,  faded  cheeks, 
Their  sobbing  fills  the  watches  of  the  night 
And  robs  the  day  of  rest. 


A  LOVE  STORY  347 

The  home,  where  virtue  broods  and  sings,  is  struck 

By  evil  hands,  and  oftimes  falls  in  woe— 

In  bitter  ruin  to  decay. 

How  shall  God's  Kingdom  come,  if  these  things  be? 

On  every  hand  these  ills  press  hard  and  sore, 

The  sufferers  cry  aloud  for  aid  and  help, 

Their  foes  seem  three  to  one. 

Whence  shall  help  come  but  from  the  Knightly  throng 

Who  swear  in  innocence  and  purity, 

To  fight  the  war  of  TRUTH,  and  conquer  wrong, 

Nor  sheathe  the  flashing  blade,  nor  glittering  lance 

Till  Error  falls,  and  Right  shall  regnant  be. 

"Unto  the  Hills",  the  Psalmist  sings,  "I  will 

Mine  eyes  lift  up,  from  thence  all  help  shall  come". 

The  mountain  air  is  free,  its  Waters  pure, 

Who  drinks  of  these,  takes  strength  within  his  soul, 

For  deeds  heroic,  common  though  they  be, 

And  scoffed  of  many  men. 

In  mountain  heights  the  gods,  and  Titans  dwelt, 

Whose  deeds  of  fleshly  prowess,  stirred  the  earth. 

Now  moral  prowess  shames  the  age  of  flesh 

When  men  may  god-like  rise  to  heights  sublime, 

Nor  stoop  like  gods  to  ape  the  ways  of  men. 

Christ  went  upon  the  mountain  when  He  prayed, 

He  sat  upon  the  mountain  when  He  taught 

Truths  most  sublime; 

From  mountain  heights  He  bade  the  tempter  flee, 

And  came  to  earth  again,  strong  in  His  God; 

From  mountain  heights  He  melted  into  Heaven. 

"A  Beauseant,  A  Beauseant"  may  then 

The  war  cry  be  from  soldier  Knights 

Till  peace  an  happiness  shall  fall  on  all 

In  East  and  West,  and  North  and  South, 

On  mountain  slopes  and  level  plains  serene, 

And  yours  a  finished  task  with  full  reward 

From  Him,  whose  Unity  ye  own. 


348  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

MY  SAINT  ELIZABETH 

Since  I  beatified  or  canonized  a  Saint  in  the  United  States 
of  America,  Elizabeth,  of  Teutopolis,  Effingham  County  Illi- 
nois, I  read  that  "The  Congregation  of  Rites  in  Rome,  con- 
sisting of  the  Cardinals  of  the  Sacred  College,  are  consider- 
ing making  a  Saint  of  Monsignor"  Newman,  the  first  Roman 
Catholic  Bishop  of  Philadelphia.  The  Canonization  of  this 
Bishop  will,  the  article  says,  take  until  1917  at  the  least,  and 
perhaps  it  will  take  20  years  to  consider  the  matter,  for  as  yet 
no  miracle  that  Bishop  Newman  performed  has  been  discover- 
ed. So  it  appears  the  first  real  Saint  in  America  was  canon- 
ized by  me,  and  I  can  say  she  did  perform  a  miracle,  for  she 
did  what  everybody  said  could  not  be  done.  She  had  the 
Teutopolis  saloon  keepers  indicted  for  breaking  the  law  of 
Illinois  and  that -miracle  still  works.  So  the  first  American 
Saint  is  a  Catholic.  She  worked  a  miracle;  and  perhaps 
another  miracle  is  the  fact  that  she  is  canonized  by  a  protestant. 
The  Canonization  was  done  in  America  very  quickly  and  exactly, 
and  St.  Elizabeth  if  she  is  not  worshipped,  was  used,  and  is 
still  used  by  the  Lord,  to  accomplish  work  for  him  in  the  world. 
—Elizabeth  of  Teutopolis  is  a  real  saint. 


A  LOVE  STORY  349 

WHAT  THE  FARMERS  NEED  IN  POLITICS. 

The  Farmers  ought  to  organize  in  every  school  district  in 
every  state,  and  during  the  fall  and  winter  months  hold  meet- 
ings and  decide  what  sort  of  legislation  they  wish.  If  once  a 
month  the  men  and  women  would  meet  in  the  school  houses  and 
talk  and  debate  what  laws  would  suit  them  and  what  not,  and 
then  gather  together  at  the  County  seat  for  a  general  meeting 
and  decide  what  the  wish  of  the  whole  County  was,  and  then 
once  a  year  hold  a  State  Convention  and  see  what  the  farmers 
of  the  whole  State  wanted  it  would  be  a  good  thing,  and  the 
farmer  class  could  decide  what  they  wished  done,  and  then  in- 
struct the  candidates  who  wished  to  go  to  the  legislature  what 
was  expected  of  them. 

In  Illinois  it  was  voted  not  long  ago  to  spend  Twenty  Mil- 
lion Dollars  for  deep  waterways,  but  before  the  legislature  came 
together,  the  voters  decided  they  did  not  wish  to  have  deep 
waterways,  which  would  probaly  absorb  a  hundred  million  dol- 
lars before  it  was  finished,  so  the  legislature  refused  to  vote 
the  appropriations  in  spite  of  tremendous  efforts  made  to  get 
that  done,  and  the  matter  rests.  The  twenty  million  was  voted 
before  due  consideration,  and  so  many  things  are  voted  in  or 
let  come  up  in  the  legislature.  If  the  farmers  held  meetings  as 
suggested,  the  states  would  have  better  laws,  and  more  satis- 
factory to  the  farmers  who  pay  the  bulk  of  the  tax.  If  the 
farmers  were  organized,  and  met  as  suggested,  no  man  could 
be  elected  to  the  legislature  except  he  was  pledged  to  vote  for 
what  the  farmer  wanted.  Let  the  farmers  organize,  to  shape 
legislation. 


350  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

"THE  EVER  FEMININE  DRAWETH  ON". 

It  is  curious  how  women  excel  in  great  lines.  To  be  sure 
women  have  always  done  great  deeds,  but  with  all  the  disad- 
vantages they  have  labored  under,  it  is  a  wonder  they  amount 
to  much.  I  read  lately  where  nine  of  ten  of  the  great  prizes 
offered  men  and  women  in  Great  Britain  were  captured  by 
women.  One  would  think  by  the  law  of  heredity  they  could 
take  after  their  fathers  in  wit,  but  according  to  the  old  theolo- 
gical and  learned  teaching  it  seems  this  is  an  error.  However, 
as  Hugo  long  since  said,  "The  ever  Feminine  Draweth  on" 
and  the  women  captured  nine  of  the  ten  prizes. 

Joel,  the  old  Prophet  whose  word  Peter  declared  was  ful- 
filled at  Pentecost,  and  long,  long  years  before  Hugo,  declared 
women  were  to  be  Prophets;  so  the  natural  law  prevails  and 
will  grow,  and  women  increase  in  power. 

Theodore  Parker  always  prayed  to  our  Father  and  Mother 
God!  Who  to-day  excels  Frances  E.  Willard  and  Jane  Adams 
as  teachers  and  reformers?  Who  excels  Bernhardt,  Adams  and 
Fisk  upon  the  stage?  Mary  Somerville  and  Maria  Mitchell 
excelled  in  Celestial  Mathmatics.  Julia  Ward  Howe  wrote  the 
only  great  Lyric  of  the  Civil  War.  Madam  Curie,  ahead  of  all 
moderns  in  her  discovery  of  Radium,  is  denied  a  place  in  the 
French  list  of  fame  because  she  is  a  woman.  Elizabeth  Dix 
revolutionized  jails,  prisons,  lunatic  asylums  and  similar  insti- 
tutions of  men.  Who  can  give  the  long  list  of  women  who  excel 
in  the  highest  places? 

All  hospital  patients  would  die  were  it  not  for  the  women 
nurses  inspired  by  Florence  Nightingale  and  Clara  Barton  and 
the  Nuns.  What  man  has  risen  superior  to  the  old  time  worn 
Creeds  and  Theologies  and  lifted  men  and  women  Godward  like 
Mary  Baker  Eddy  shaking  the  churches,  and  schools  of  medi- 
cines? Hetty  Green,  as  a  financier,  has  taught,  one  may  ac- 
cumulate great  wealth,  and  honestly.  Helen  Gould  is  the  wise 
steward  of  her  father's  great  riches.  Belle  Gunderson  as  a 
rogue  excels  all  male  malefactors.  The  law  was  in  the  begin- 
ning and  now  is— "God  made  man  male  and  female  and  gave 
them  dominion  over  all  things",  and  the  woman  is  fast  coming 
to  her  own.  The  ever  feminine  is  of  the  law,  and  is  soon  to  be 


A  LOVE  STORY  351 

accepted.  So  the  great  Frenchman  was  right  in  saying,  '  'The 
ever  Feminine  draweth  on".  Women  excel  in  every  vocation 
and,  as  the  mother  of  the  race,  has  kept  herself  free  from  bad 
habits,  and  she  is  the  Great  Priestess  of  high  thinking  and  high 
living.  It  will  be  a  glad  day  for  the  human  race  when  she 
comes  into  her  own. 

Buckle  in  his  '  Influence  of  Women  on  the  Advancement  of 
Knowledge"  says  that  all  the  great  modern  discoveries  of'  the 
world  have  been  made  by  the  womans  method  of  thought, 
which  is  the  deductive  method;  and  that  way  of  thinking  in- 
volves the  emotions,  the  love  of  the  beautiful,  and  poetry,  and 
enthusiasm;  that  is  the  highest  method  of  thought,  and  he 
instances  the  law  of  gravitation  by  Newton,  the  metamorphosis 
of  plants  by  Goethe,  the  regularity  of  the  formation  of  chrys- 
tals  by  Hany,  the  vertebrate  constitution  of  the  human  skull,  all 
discovered  by  the  deductive  mode  of  thinking  and  by  poets  except 
Newton ;  deductive  thinking  is  the  philosophic  and  speculative 
method  of  thought,  and  out  of  it  has  come  the  largest  truths. 
Schofield  in  his  Force  of  Mind,  deplores  the  decay  of  the  specu- 
lative and  philosophic  mode  of  thought  in  medicine  and  surgery, 
by  which  he  says  the  greatest  and  best  discoveries  in  both 
have  been  made,  by  adherence  to  the  deductive  method,  of 
thought,  and  he  laments  specialization  as  barren  in  results. 
Speculative  and  philosophic  thinking  are  not  much  in  vogue 
now  in  medicine  and  surgery  and  study,  allowed  the  inductive 
method  or  man  method  of  thinking  is  barren  of  results. 

Buckle  believes  the  old  refined  civilizations  ended  because 
women  were  either  regarded  as  chattels  by  the  Romans 
or  as  a  means  of  diversion  or  toys  as  by  the  Greeks.  No 
civilization  can  endure  that  degrades  its  women;  and  no 
civilization  can  rise  to  its  best  until  it  recognizes  its  women  in 
equality  of  citizenship.  The  world  needs  the  deductive  method 
of  thought  for  its  highest  uses,  and  Buckle  says  women  keep 
this  methed  of  thought  alive  and  hence  advance  the  world  in 
knowledge  of  the  highest.  So  as  Hugo  says  "the  ever  feminine 
draweth  on". 


352  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

SONNET,  WRITTEN  IN  A  BIRTHDAY  BOOK. 

FOR  MY  SISTER,  NORA. 

When  one  may  mark  her  natal  day  with  joys 

Of  simple  gifts  that  fullness  hold  of  love, 

And  teaching  truths  that  lift  the  soul  above 

Small  thought — the  narrowing  ruts  that  life  alloys, 

It's  petty  strifes,  its  poor  ignoble  toys, 

Of  vain  adorning,  and  of  ways  that  move, 

Not  on  to  beauty  true,  but  idly  rove 

The  fields  of  pleasure,  and  themselves  employ 

In  self  alone — age  stealing  on  apace 

Shall  find  a  soul  in  perfectness  complete, 

That  in  its  span,  of  years  has  run  a  race 

With  all  its  gracious  powers,  full  round  and  sweet; 

No  vain  regrets  her  glory  shall  abase, 

The  fountain  of  eternal  youth  is  at  her  feet. 


A  LOVE  STORY  353 

I  BRING  HOUSES  UP  THE  HILL 


When  my  farm  was  first  opened  by  my  husband  it  was 
hoped  to  make  it  a  health  resort.  The  great  springs  were  me- 
dicinal, and  a  number  of  them  were  up  and  down  a  beautiful 
glen,  and  four  houses  were  built  along  its  sides.  I  did  not  like 
them  there  when  I  came  to  handle  the  place,  so  I  drew  three 
of  them  up  the  great  hill  and  planted  them  on  level  ground. 
They  were  small  and  light  and  not  very  hard  to  get  up  though 
the  hill  was  very  steep  and  long.  But  the  last  one,  a  story  and 
a  half  house  of  seven  rooms,  was  a  problem,  but  I  wanted  it 
up;  it  added  to  the  value  of  my  farm  to  get  it  on  the  upland 
not  only  in  looks,  but  otherwise. 

I  talked  with  the  house  movers  and  they  said  very  cheer- 
fully, "Tear  it  down  and  haul  it  up,  and  rebuild  it".  That,  I 
vowed,  I  would  not  do;  lumber  was  so  high  and  I  knew  the  de- 
struction that  accompanied  the  tearing  down  process,  and  be- 
sides, the  whole  roof  was  new  and  of  the  best  cedar  shingles. 
No,  I  would  not  tear  it  down;  it  had  to  be  hauled  up.  So  I  set 
men  at  work  raising  it  and  getting  it  ready  to  be  moved. 
Everybody  had  an  idea  about  the  house,  and  chaffed  with  every 
other  one  and  with  me  about  it.  I  brought  a  house  mover 
from  Effingham,  who  proudly  told  me  he  had  worked  at  that 
business  for  thirty-seven  years.  He  came,  looked  at  the  house, 
and  said  dryly,  "Yes,  I  can  move  the  house,  but  I  will  tear  it 
all  to  pieces.  You  had  best  take  it  down  and  haul  it  up  in 


t 


PQ 


A  LOVE  STORY  355 

wagons"  etc.  I  felt  mad  and  disgusted.  He  had  agreed  to  let 
me  have  his  tackle  and  come  down  himself,  and  the  tackle  was 
partly  on  the  ground.  What  provoked  me  most  was  that  all 
the  men  on  the  job  were  in  agreement  with  the  house  mover. 
I  gave  him  and  his  brother  lunch  and  got  them  off  the  place.  I 
told  the  men  "You  work  till  night,  and  in  the  morning  I  will 
tell  you  what  to  do"!  I  had  worked  hard  with  the  men  grad- 
ing the  hill  ready  to  go  up.  I  drove  the  horses  and  one  of  the 
men  managed  the  scraper.  I  fell  down  many  a  time  in  the 
soft  dirt  as  we  turned  and  twisted  on  that  grade  to  get  ready 
to  haul  the  house  up.  We  had  to  cut  a  number  of  trees  out  of 
our  track,  and  dynamite  the  roots.  We  had  cut  a  quantity  of 
wood  as  props,  to  use  in  raising  the  house  up,  and  dragged  logs  for 
supports,  etc.  I  felt  mad;  but  the  next  morning  I  went  down 
as  brassy  as  you  please;  I  hoped  to  inspire  a  little  confidence  in 
the  workers  after  what  the  contractors  had  said,  but  who  was 
I  to  inspire  men?  A  woman,  ignorant  of  the  art  I  was  deter- 
mined to  use;  but  I  had  something  worth  while  and  that  was 
my  will.  I  was  determined  to  have  that  house  hauled  up  the 
hill.  I  had  been  to  see  a  man  in  an  adjoining  County  who  had 
a  tackle  and  moved  houses  with  a  big  traction  engine,  but 
could  not  get  him,  he  was  too  busy.  I  went  to  Effingham  and 
a  man  came  to  collect  for  a  bill  of  lumber  his  father  had  sawed 
for  me.  I  knew  he  was  used  to  timber  handling,  and  saw  mill 
and  lumber  work,  so  I  made  a  statement  of  my  woes  to  him. 
He  said  at  once,  "Why  I  could  bring  that  house  up  the  hill"? 
Then  I  said  "You  are  the  man  I  want",  and  he  arranged  to 
come  down  on  the  early  train  next  morning.  I  ran  to  my  Con- 
tractor who  was  groaning  with  the  Grippe.  He  said  it- was  not 
possible  for  him  to  go  down,  but  he  let  me  have  all  the  rest  of 
his  tackle,  which  was  a  quantity,  a  capstan,  a  big  rope,  rollers, 
and  props  and  jacks.  I  had  to  run  that  Monday  morning  for 
the  time  was  short,  but  by  twelve  o'clock  it  was  all  loaded  on 
the  local  train,  and  at  three  p.  m.  my  men  ware  loading  it  on 
wagons  at  Mason,  fifteen  miles  below,  and  it  was  out  at  my 
farm  by  night.  The  next  morning  we  all  repaired  to  the  house 
and  the  hill.  The  moment  my  new  man  took  hold  of  the  stuff 
I  saw  he  knew  how  to  apply  power.  He  set  the  capstan, 
hitched  a  pulley  to  a  post,  and  put  on  the  big  ropa.  He  took  a 


356 


A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


lot  of  telephone  wire  we  had  and  soon  we  had  a  rope  walk 
going  and  a  good  wire  cable  made.  I  took  the  middle  section 
and  obeyed  orders,  while  he  and  another  man  took  the  two 
ends.  We  had  another  wire  cable  we  borrowed  by  an  aban- 
doned stack  on  the  Illinois  Central  Railroad,  and  now,  the 
cable  all  on,  the  horses  were  hitched  to  the  capstan,  and 
around  and  around  they  went  with  a  good  driver.  The  capstan 
squeaked  and  clucked,  the  rope  whined,  the  house  creaked  and 
groaned  and  started,  and  up  she  came,  slowly  but  surely. 
Though  it  was  winter,  and  the  ground  soft  often,  and  it  rained, 
causing  us  to  wait  often,  one  lovely  Friday  evening  we  arrived  at 
the  top  of  the  hill,  on  level  ground.  We  all  gave  a  wild  hurrah, 
for  "couldn't"  had  yielded  to  "could",  and  the  mind  of  man 
had  triumphed  over  matter,  and  we  knew  the  law  that  over- 
came resistance.  The  house  went  quickly  up  the  road  now,  and 
landed  where  I  wanted  it,  and  we  set  and  leveled  and  plaster- 
ed it.  I  felt  I  had  a  right  to  crow,  and  I  did.  I  had  proved 
many  a  thing  by  that,  and  it  is  always  easier  since  for  me  to 
get  hard  things  done. 

All  my  houses  were  now  up  the  hill  and  the  farm  was  more 
valuable  for  it,  and  it  gave  me  a  confidence  in  myself,  who  had 
done  what  the  Contractors  had  said  could  not  be  done,  and  I 
got  a  new  label,  which  was  a  good  thing"  for  me  to  wear. 


357 


"GO  YE,  AND  PREACH  THE  GOSPEL  TO  ALL  NATIONS". 

Christianity  is  a  Mission.  Jesus  emphasied  again  and 
again  to  his  disciples,  that  it  was  His  will,  and  their  business  to 
preach  the  Gospel  to  all  peoples.  Yet  it  has  been  a  very  hard 
matter  to  get  Missions  on  their  feet.  The  Church  denounced 
them;  first  because  as  many  said  if  the  Gospel  were  not  preached 
to  the  heathen  they  might  escape  damnation,  whereas  if  it  were 
preached  to  them  and  they  rejected  it,  they  were  sure  to  be 
damned.  '  'Then  why  bother  about  them  anyway,  it  costs  so 
much  to  save  a  heathen,  etc.,  and  charity  begins  at  home,  and, 
therefore,  I  will  give  nothing  to  Missions". 

Chaplain  McCabe  once  tried  to  get  a  hearing  before  a 
gathering  of  Millionaires  who  met  in  New  York,  for  his  Mission 
work,  but  they  would  none  of  him,  and  yet,  if  they  had  known! 

There  is  a  saying,  "Commerce  follows  the  Flag",  but  they 
who  say  it,  do  not  know  perhaps  what  is  true,  that  the  Flag  fol- 
lows the  Missionary.  Long  before  the  flag,  was  the  Missionary, 
trying  to  carry  out  the  last  will  and  testament  of  Jesus  Christ, 
"Go  Ye  and  preach  the  Gospel  to  all  creatures".  The  story  of 
man  began  in  the  rich  alluvial  valleys  of  the  Euphrates,  the 
Tigris  and  the  Nile;  in  Palestine  came  Jesus,  and  then  the 
Apostles  who  traveled  still  farther  West  into  the  Greek  Archa- 
pelago,  and  the  Islands  of  the  Aegean  Sea,  and  the  Mediter- 
annean,  and  into  Italy  and  Spain,  and  later  on  into  Great  Britain 
their  Bretheren  went  as  Missionaries;  Then  came  Columbus, 
then  from  the  British  Isles  and  other  lands  in  due  season  came 
the  Pilgrim  Fathers  and  America  was  taken  for  Christ.  Obedi- 
ent to  a  powerful  impulse,  we  of  America  traveled  West  across 
the  Continent  and  on  and  on  West  to  the  Phillipines. 

Missionaries  had  long  since  pre-empted  ground  in  Japan, 
in  Asia,  in  Africa,  in  all  the  Islands  of  the  Sea,  in  Australia, 
Polanesia,  New  Zealand,  they  were  everywhere. 

Dr.  Adoniram  Judson  captured  Siam  and  Burma  for  God.  Da- 
vid Livingston  raised  a  plea  for  Africa,  but  the  Church  was  di- 
vided. However,  he  was  sent  to  Africa,  and  the  London  Geogra- 
phical Society  gave  him  aid.  He  was  much  maligned  and  was  lost 
to  the  world  for  a  long  time.  Stanley  was  sent  to  Africa  to  find 
him,  by  help  of  James  Gordon  Bennett  of  America,  and  he  was 


358  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

found.  Livingston  discovered  the  sources  of  the  Nile,  he  named 
the  Albert  and  Victoria  Nyanza's,  and  many  valuable  geogra- 
phical discoveries  were  attributed  to  him.  He  opened  the  dark 
Continent  because  he  was  a  Missionary,  and  his  heart  was  hot 
with  a  desire  to  obey  the  commands  of  Christ  and  take  the 
Gospel  to  the  poor  heathen  of  that  dark  region.  Livingston 
died;  his  converts  buried  his  heart  in  Africa;  they  embalmed 
his  body  and  carried  it  over  swamps  and  jungles  and  through  a 
region  swarming  with  savage  beasts,  to  the  coast,  whence  it 
was  sent  a  precious  memento  to  England.  Years  passed  and 
the  men  who  followed  the  flag  and  the  Missionary,  planned  and 
built  and  opened  the  great  Nile  dam  at  Assuan,  one  of  the  mar- 
vels of  the  world.  This  dam  which,  by  storing  the  Nile  waters, 
added  billions  to  the  world's  wealth  and  ended  famines  in 
Egypt,  is  directly  due  to  the  work  of  Livingston,  the  Mis- 
sionary, and  yet  no  one  remembered;  he  was  not  mentioned 
when  all  the  world  gathered  at  Assuan,  in  pomp  and  ceremony 
to  open  that  great  dam  of  which  he  was  the  initial  power;  they 
did  not  even  know. 

It  was  the  Missionaries,  and  the  native  Christians  they  had 
made,  who,  during  the  Boxer  War  in  China,  saved  the  foreign 
legations  at  Pekin ;  and  yet  these  representatives  of  the  Nations 
had  no  use  for  Missionaries  before. 

Really  the  most  of  them  looked  with  contempt  on  Mission- 
aries. I  see  the  work  of  the  Missionaries  in  the  Phillipines  has 
attracted  notice  of  the  highest  minds  now.  At  last  the  whole 
world  is  an  open  book.  Even  Thibet  with  her  grand  Lama,  is  no 
longer  shut,  thanks  to  the  Missionaries. 

Asia,  Africa,  Europe,  Australia,  Polanesia,  New  Zealand, 
Hawaii,  the  Islands  of  the  Sea,  have  all  been  conquered  by  the 
Missionaries  for  Christ  and  for  the  love  of  Christ. 

After  the  Missionaries  come  the  flags  of  the  Nations,  then 
civilization,  then  the  wealth  of  the  earth  is  made  manifest,  but 
it  is  not  Missions  or  Missionaries  who  get  it;  and  the  rich  world 
still  sneers  and  grudges  part  of  what  the  Missionary  brought 
them,  to  extend  this  beneficent  work.  Ah— "what  fools  these 
mortals  be". 

The  story  of  Missions  reads  like  a  Bible.  What  horrible 
sufferings  the  Missionaries  endure  and  have  endured,  and  yet 


A  LOVE  STORY  359 

they  gave  to  the  world  who  scoffed  them,  blessings  of  all  kinds. 
To  those  who  are  in  it  the  story  reads  like  a  miracle,  and  the 
"Miracle  of  Missions"  is  the  title  of  a  set  of  thrilling  tales  of 
Mission  work,  I  belong  to  two  Missionary  Societies,  I  like  to 
be  at  the  front  of  great  movements  as  far  as  possible. 

After  I  read  the  life  of  David  Livingston  I  was  certain  how 
the  Boer  War  would  end.  With  all  their  pious  claims  the  Boers 
were  disobedient  to  God's  laws,  and  they  came  to  an  end  as  a 
Government,  as  a  People.  Livingston  was  long  dead  when 
that  War  broke  out,  but  he  recorded  the  deeds  of  the  Boers  as 
to  their  treatment  of  the  Natives  and  Missonaries;  when  the 
Boer  War  came  on  it  read  "Thou  art  weighed  in  the  bal- 
lance  and  found  wanting;  this  day  shall  thy  kingdom  end". 
We  need  to  obey  the  command  and  '  'Go  preach  the  Gospel  to 
all  Nations". 


360  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

"AS  GOD  LIVES  WHATSOEVER  IS  EXCELLENT  IS  PERMA- 
NENT." —  EMERSON. 

It  is  man  who  has  free  will.  If  in  bonds  of  the  law  about 
him  he  decides  to  do  a  thing  he  can,  and  he  can  keep  doing  it, 
and  if  it  is  good  it  will  persist;  if  it  is  evil  it  will  end,  not  always 
in  his  day;  if  it  is  a  general  evil  or  wrong  he  does,  some  day  it 
will  end.  Christianity  is  right,  it  prevails ;  Paganism  was  wrong, 
it  ended;  Human  Slavery  was  an  evil,  it  has  virtually  ended; 
the  old  dogmas  of  the  Church  were  evil,  they  are  virtually  ended; 
the  liquor  traffic  is  an  evil,  it  draws  near  its  end;  the  subjection 
of  women  is  an  evil,  it  draws  near  its  close;  prostitution  is  an 
evil,  it  will  end;  vivisection  is  an  evil  of  the  most  dreadful  sort, 
it  is  bound  to  end;  Monarchial  Governments  are  evil,  they  will 
end. 

In  the  beginnings  Q£  the  Evils,  almost  everybody  is  agreed 
to  them.  But  one  comes  objecting  then  another,  and  another, 
and  the  clash  of  human  wills  begins. 

First  there  is  contempt,  then  scorn,  then  the  clash  and 
battle  of  the  opposing  forces.  The  will  of  God  appears  at  last 
and  some  submit,  and  later  comes  the  end;  nothing  can  stop  it. 
"It  is  the  Providence  that  shapes  our  ends— rough  hew  them 
as  we  will". 

Men  may  run  riot  with  an  evil,  and  it  is  permitted,  but 
there  will  come  a  day  when,  sick  and  sore  with  the  struggle, 
and  beaten  by  adverse  numbers,  they  are  obliged  to  yield,  and 
the  evils  end  and  God,  through  man,  his  co-worker,  triumphs. 
It  has  always  been  so;  it  always  will  be  so. 

Men  have  been  hanged,  burned,  drowned,  have  been  tor- 
tured to  death  to  obliterate  their  efforts  and  ideas,  but  it  has 
only  hastened  the  end.  I  heard  the  Honorable  John  M.  Palmer 
of  Illinois  tell  at  the  meeting  of  the  Survivors  of  the  Constitu- 
tional Convention  of  1847,  that  at  that  time  he'd  have  wagered 
all  he  was  worth  or  hoped  to  possess,  that  slavery  could  not  end 
in  the  United  States.  "But",  he  said  "I  have  lived  twenty-five 
years  to  see  it  gone". 

At  the  time  of  the  Jeffries-Johnson  prize  fight  a  policeman 
in  Effingham  said  to  me,  and  oh,  how  hot  he  was,  for  he  had 
just  heard  the  white  man  had  been  beaten  by  the  Negro,  "All 


A  LOVE  STORY  361 

the  Niggers  ought  to  be  killed".  What  for",  said  I,  "the  Niggers' 
as  you  all  know  did  not  come  to  this  Country;  white  men  went  to 
their  country  and  chased  them,  and  caught  them  and  chained 
them,  and  put  them  on  ship  board  and  brought  them  to  this 
country  so  they  would  have  men  they  could  work  and  not  pay. 
How  would  you  like  that,  and  what  do  you  want  to  have  them 
killed  for,  after  we  brought  them  here?"  He  shut  up  and 
cleared  out.  I  stood  on  the  steps  of  a  Bank  as  the  men  and 
boys  came  out  of  a  popular  saloon,  little  boys  too,  the  day  of 
that  fight,  after  they  felt  like  a  pack  of  whipped  dogs,  and  men 
all  over  the  land  felt  the  same  way,  and  in  a  loud  voice  I  cried 
as  I  clapped  my  hands  "Thank  God,  the  Negro  whipped  the 
White  man.  I  never  thought  to  pray  for  a  prize  fight,  but  I've 
asked  the  Lord  to  let  the  Negro  whip  to-day.  It's  the  last  drop 
in  the  cup  of  our  debasement  on  that  subject".  It  hurt  their 
feelings,  I  wanted  it  to.  I  was  a  heavy  tax  payer,  I  rankled 
under  the  fact  that  our  men  who  could,  if  they  wished,  enfran- 
chise women  in  all  our  states,  refuse,  and  then  enfranchise  the 
Negro;  and  I  wanted  the  black  man  that  was  enfranchised  over 
me  and  over  other  women  to  whip  their  white  champion,  sound 
and  well,  they  needed  that  punishment  and  thank  the  Lord,  he 
did,  and  prize  fights  are  ended  in  America  with  it,  for  which  I 
am  thankful  also. 

In  the  early  days  of  the  war  no  man  who  went  out  to  war 
marched  out  to  end  slavery.  Perish  the  thought!  Every  man 
would  have  cast  down  his  gun  and  made  tracks  for  home.  Even 
the  Quakers  who  were  making  money  out  of  cotton  kept  still 
as  mice,  except  a  few  of  them.  The  underground  Railway  was 
in  active  operation.  A  few  despised  women  and  men,  among 
them  Theodore  Parker.  Lloyd  Garrison,  and  others,  sent  their 
fiery  darts  abroad.  The  Mexican  War,  the  Nebraska  Bill,  the 
Missouri  Compromise,  the  Kansas  Troubles.  Had  engaged  Con- 
gress. Down  in  Virginia  John  Brown  of  Kansas  said  to  the 
Negro,  "No  one  cares  for  slavery  and  you;  here  is  a  torch, 
burn;  here  is  a  gun,  shoot".  John  Brown  knew  he  ran  his 
head  in  a  noose  and  he  went  to  his  scaffold  as  Christ  went  to 
the  Cross,  and  he  was  hanged  good  and  dead.  No  sooner  was 
John  Brown  dead  than  the  Union  Army  began  to  sing  a  song 
everywhere,  that  ran;— "John  Brown's  body  lies  mouldering 


362  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

in  the  ground,  but  his  soul  is  marching  on";,  and  it  will  march  on, 
forever,  till  the  end  of  the  time.  Julia  Ward  Howe  was  inspired 
with  her  magnificent  Lyric  "The  Battle  Hymn  of  the  Repub- 
lic" to  that  old  tune  of  John  Brown's  Body;  and  "Our 
God  is  Marching  On".  Abraham  Lincoln  signed  the  de- 
crees of  God  with  his  blood,  and  slavery  was  ended  everywhere 
on  the  earth,  as  well  as  in  America.  With  John  Marshall  as 
the  Expounder  and  Lincoln  as  the  Defender  of  the  Constitution, 
through  unavoidable  war,  we  are  under  God  a  United  Country, 
cemented  together  for  good  and  "Marching  On".  There  is  no 
longer  a  North,  nor  a  South.  Nobody  wants  that  any  more.  It 
is  the  United  States  of  America  under  one  flag,  a  deeply  united 
people,  and  to  be  more  united  in  the  future  thantiow.  The  Ex- 
cellent, under  God, .  persists. 

Why  speak  of  the  wrongs  of  women,  they  are  patent;  or  of 
the  old  dogmas  of  the  Church;  or  of  the  Liquor  Traffic;  or  of 
Prostitution,  all  of  them  with  the  mark  of  Cain  upon  them  and 
soon  to  cease?  Of  Vivisection,  the  latest  of  the  evils  that  has 
come  to  torment  the  dumb  animals  and  to  menace  the  race,  and 
which  will  run  its  course  and  cease,  but  which  at  present  is  in 
vogue.  The  Excellent  is  the  permanent— It  is  the  will  of  God. 


A  LOVE  STORY  363 

CULTURE  AND  CREDULITY 

It  is  strange  that  we  are  given  to  claiming  "Culture"  as 
the  highest  of  the  conditions  for  a  man  or  woman,  and  so  much 
knowledge,  so  much  travel,  the  ability  to  keep  a  certain  poise 
of  body,  or  expression  of  countenance,  clean  hands  and  nails,  a 
studied  grace  and  elegance,  to  eat  with  a  fork  instead  of  a/ 
knife,  to  sip  from  the  side  of  a  spoon  instead  of  from  the  end 
of  it,  to  speak  in  a  voice  trained  to  an  even  pitch,  to  wear  gar- 
ments atuned  to  the  fashion,  to  be  choice  in  the  use  of  words, 
to  be  able  to  paint  or  write,  or  sing,  is  called  Culture;  and 
many  seek  after  it.  To  violate  any  of  the  rules  is  dubbed 
vulgar.  I  have  seen  those  who  broke  all  the  rules  of  refine- 
ment and  culture,  as  the  books  rate  them,  and  yet  they  were 
so  honest  and  so  good  all  through  that  they  grew  upon  one  till 
a  charm  from  the  soul  within  illuminated  them  like  a  halo. 
There  are  those  refined  in  every  way,  they  seem  like  pure  gold, 
but  from  the  cold  and  callous  heart  within,  there  steals  a  chill 
that  makes  one  almost  shiver  and  shrink  within* himself. 

"Kind  hearts  are  more  than  coronets,  and  simple  faith 
than  Norman  blood"  wrote  one  who  knew  true  Culture.  One 
who  has  all  the  learning  of  the  schools  and  who  torments  a 
poor  brute,  is  denied  of  what  makes  culture  real.  A  certain 
woman  with  learning,  and  the  polish  of  education,  and  the  cul- 
ture of  religion  was  so  grossly  impertinent  to  a  stranger  in  her 
house  because  of  a  difference  in  faiths,  that  she  caused  her  to 
shed  tears.  Had  she  the  real  culture?  Why  are  we  so  credu- 
lous as  to  take  the  culture  of  education  and  refinement,  for  the 
real  culture  that  springs  from  the  heart,  even  though  the  gar- 
ments are  soiled,  the  voice  harsh,  the  hands  grimy  with  hard 
toil,  and  the  nails  stubbed  and  dirty?  Poor  "Ould  Pumeloe", 
Jansie  her  daughter,  in  her  loud  dress,  and  Mulvaney,  had  a 
culture  that  was  real.  Well,  that  is  one  of  the  queer  things  of 
life.  One  may  love  all  the  beautiful  things  in  Nature,  and 
beautiful  garments  and  cleanliness,  and  soft  voices  and  music, 
but  be  unable  for  lack  of  time  or  money  to  have  any  of  these, 
yet,  be  possessed  of  a  real  refinement  and  culture.  Let  us  not 
be  so  credulous  as  to  be  taken  in  by  the  spurious,  instead  of  the 
real  culture  of  the  heart,  and  so  credulous  of  the  false,  so  blind 
to  the  true,  refinement  and  culture. 


364 


THEY  TRY  TO  TAKE  ME  IN 

Everywhere  things  crop  up  that  are  not  as  they  ought  to 
be. 

I  had  a  gray  mare  that  a  man  wanted  to  buy  of  me  and  I 
finally  agreed  to  take  $90  for  her,  though  she  was  worth  more. 
He  paid  me  $10  to  bind  the  bargain  and  asked  if  she  might 
stay  at  my  farm  a  few  days,  as  she  was  not  shod  and  the  roads 
were  rough.  I  said,  ''Yes,  a  few  days,  but  not  long".  He 
was  to  fetch  me  the  $80  due  on  her  before  she  was  delivered. 
A  couple  of  days  later  my  "boss"  phoned  me,  "S—  —is  here 
after  the  mare,  shall  I  deliver  her"?  Said  I,  "Has  he  a  writ- 
ten order  from  me"?  "No".  I  had  told  my  people  she  was 
only  to  be  let  go  on  a  written  order  from  me.  "Has  he  the 
money,  the  $80  due  on  her"?  "No".  "Well,  she  can't  go". 
"He  says  to  come  to  the  phone  and  talk  with  him".  "Tell 
him  I  do  not  transact  business  over  the  phone  but  at  my  of- 
fice". "Well,  be  says  go  to  the  bank  and  ask  if  he  hasn't  the 
money  to  pay  for  her".  "Tell  him  he  must  attend  to  his  own 
business.  I  have  enough  to  do  to  attend  to  my  own".  (I 
found  later  he  had  nothing  at  the  bank. )  "Well,  he  says  if  he 
can't  have  her  to-day  he  will  not  take  her  at  all".  "Tell  him  I 
don't  care  whether  he  takes  her  or  not",  and  rung  off. 

The  following  Tuesday  the  gentleman  appeared  at  my  office 
so  surprised  that,  because  we  were  such  "good  friends"  I  had 
refused  him  the  mare.  He  looked  worried  for  fear  I  would  de- 
clare a  forfeit  on  the  $10  he  had  paid  as  a  guaranty.  Then  he 
said,  "If  I  pay  the  $80  can  I  have  the  horse"?  "Yes,  you 
can",  and  off  he  went.  I  had  a  young  lawyer  friend  who  came 
in  at  the  same  time  my  horse  buying  friend  did,  and  I  asked 
him  to  stay  while  we  talked.  He  had  had  much  experience  in 
horse  buying.  I  said  when  my  "dear  friend"  went  out, 
"Harry,  what  do  you  think  of  that  for  a  horse  sale"?  -He 
laughed  heartily  and  said,  "Well,  if  he  had  got  that  mare 
you'd  never  have  got  your  money".  When  my  "dear  friend" 
came  back  with  the  $80  he  received  an  order  for  his  property. 
I  had  a  friend,  a  widow,  a  farmer's  wife,  who  lost  a  fine  mare 
after  her  husband's  death  by  the  same  scheme  laid  to  get  mine. 

I  had  a  field  lush  with  blue  grass  that  was  much  coveted  as 


A  LOVE  STORY 

pasture,  but  I  would  not  rent  it  as  the  fences  were  not  very 
good,  and  besides,  I  thought  it  worth  more  to  plough  under  as 
humus  for  the  next  year's  crop.  A  man  came  to  rent  it  and, 
as  the  winter  was  open,  he  was  to  plough  it  in  February.  He 
was  to  come  to  me  to  sign  his  contract,  but  he  came  not, 
though  he  came  to  town,  went  to  my  lawyer  and  told  him  I 
was  not  at  home,  which  I  was,  and  the  office  was  open  and 
another  person  busy  all  day  in  it.  I  wrote  and  told]  him  to 
come  sign  his  lease;  then  I  heard  he  was  trying  to  sublet  my 
land  to  other  parties,  so  I  rented  to  another  man.  Then  I 
found  my  field  full  of  cattle  belonging  to  yet  another  man  who 
had  tried  to  rent  it  of  me.  I  ordered  them  out  instead  of  tak- 
ing them  up  as  I  should  have  done,  and  demanded  pay.  This 
party  told  me  about  forty  lies  and  finally  refused  to  pay  me  at 
all.  It  was  not  worth  lawing  over  so  I  rested.  He  rented 
land  adjacent  to  me,  and  my  ford  had  always  been  used  by  the 
parties  who  rented  that  land.  I  ordered  him  to  stay  off  my 
land  and  make  his  own  ford.  I  posted  a  "No  trespassing" 
sign  on  my  land;  he  could  not  pasture  his  stock  field,  because  I 
would  not  allow  him  to  use  my  ford  or  my  field.  I  forbade  him 
and  his  to  go  over  any  of  my  roads,  which  he  had  often  done  to 
save  time  and  work  for  himself.  I  think  he  learned  that  he 
made  nothing  by  his  meanness  and  dishonesty.  The  neighbors 
laughed,  and  they  tell  me  that  to  make  him  "hot",  someone 
needs  only  ask  him  when  he  was  on  my  land  last. 

The  man  who  wanted  to  rent  the  80  acres  went  upon  it  and 
ploughed  a  few  times  across  it  after  I  had  rented  to  another, 
and  then  set  fire  to  my  grass  to  burn  it  off.  He  intended  to 
try  and  hold  it  in  spite  of  me.  I  saw  the  fire  and  raced  over.as 
fast  as  my  team  could  take  me.  The  fire  had  run  away  from 
him  and  was  racing  for  the  fences,  and  he  and  his  son  chased 
it  to  put  it  out  and  save  the  fences.  Said  I  fiercely,  "What  are 
you  doing  on  my  land"?  "I  rented  it".  "No  you  didn't.  Put 
out  that  fire  and  get  off  of  here,  and  don't  you  come  back 
again  or  I'll  see  to  you".  He  said,  I  reckon  you'll  let  me  have 
my  plough. "  "Yes,  take  your  stuff  and  go,  and  don't  you 
come  back  again, ' '  and  that  ended  the  matter. 

I  had  a  tenant  who  seemed  all  right,  but  when  it  came  to 
our  final  settlement  he  made  a  claim  of  $20  on  me,  and  went  off 


366  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

like  a  torpedo,  threatening  to  sue  me.  I  was  astounded  for  he 
had  not  the  shadow  of  a  claim,  but  he  desired  to  beat  me  out 
of  $20.  A  woman  is  foolish  to  bandy  words  under  such  cir- 
cumstances with  men,  so  I  sent  for  my  Attorney  and  they  had 
it  out  and  I  made  a  concession  to  get  rid  of  him.  He  had  the 
gall  to  want  to  rent  of  me  again,  and  when  by  some  under- 
handed work  with  others  he  had  to  have  a  law  suit  to  get 
another  place,  I  was  obliged  to  order  him  off  of  my  place  by 
law  to  get  rid  of  him. 

I  had  another  tenant  that  I  offered  land  to  use,  for  work  to 
be  done;  he  did  four  days  work  and  claimed  twelve.  When  the 
corn  was  in,  and  scrambled  by  the  cultivator  a  time  or  so,  he 
hitched  up  and  went  a  pleasuring,  also  got  drunk  and  had  a 
good  time  according  to  his  ideas,  and  when  the  corn  was  ripe 
tried  to  sell  it.  The  man  he  offered  it  to  asked  me  if  I  would 
allow  him  to  dispose  of  it.  '  'No,  I  said,  not  till  I  am  paid  my 
rent".  Then  my  tenant  came  with  the  same  question.  I  told 
him  no.  "Will  you  buy  me  out"  said  he,  I  said,  "I  will  send 
men  to  judge  the  acreage  and  the  crop  and  then  I  will  tell 
you",  I  sent  my  tenant  who  later  flew  up  and  threatened  to 
sue  me.  He  had  not  showed  up  at  that  time,  and  I  sent  two 
others.  My  tenant  on  the  place  sent  in  a  judge  and  one  of 
mine  was  not  allowed  to  serve,  though  I  did  not  at  the  time 
know  it,  and  it  was  reported  to  me  that  there  were  20  acre 
in  cultivation.  The  corn  on  it  would  average  they  said  30  bushels 
to  the  acre  which  I  was  to  give  fifty  cents  per  bushel  for  less 
three  cents  per  bushel  for  gathering.  I  viewed  the  ground 
after  their  report  and  it  seemed  to  me  there  were  not  twenty 
acres  of  it.  So  I  concluded  to~call  in  the  County  Surveyor  and 
I  took  him  down  early  one  morning  and  had  a  tenant  carry  his 
chains  etc.,  while  the  party  who  farmed  it  viewed  their  work. 
The  Surveyor  found  less  than  12  acres  of  ground  in  corn.  I'd 
have  been  out  eight  acres  of  corn  or  240  bushels  had  I  not  call- 
ed the  Surveyor  in,  and  would  have  lost  about  $120.  I  learned 
later  that  farmers  know  how  to  walk  lines  and  measure  acres 
quite  well,  but  I  was  supposed  to  be  an  ignoramus,  and  the 
man  who  was  on  the  Committee  for  my  tenant  had  a  mortgage 
on  my  tenant's  horses.  I  did  not  then  understand  why  my 
Committee  man  was  squeezed  off.  I  told  my  friends  these 


A  LOVE  STORY 

things,  farmers  and  others,  and  they  laughed  and  retold  them 
over  the  phones  and  others  laughed  and  retold,  and  so  I  took 
care  of  myself  in  a  peaceable  way  and  the  best  I  could.  It  was 
well  for  all  to  learn  as  soon  as^possible  I  was  not  a  town  green- 
horn to  be  taken  in,  and  that  I  did  not  enjoy  the  game  of  snipe 
hunting.  They  were  a  foolish  set  of  men  after  the  Surveyor 
got  through.  I  have  good,  kind  friends  among  my  farmer 
neighbors  and  others,  but  some  men  will  run  over  a  woman  if 
they  can;  they  despise  her  if  she  lets  them,  and  hate  her  if  she 
blocks  the  game.  But  I  had  rather  be  hated  for  defending  my 
rights  than  to  be  despised  as  a  "low  life"  as  Perlmutter  and 
Potash  were  fond  of  saying.  So  I  was  kept,  in  all  these 
schemes  to  take  me  in.  I  always  asked  God  to  lead  me  and  to 
bless  the  works  of  my  hands,  but  I  am  not  excused  from  doing 
all  I  can  myself,  and  it  quickens  one  to  feel  the  power  that 
runs  the  Universe  is  our  power  if  we  so  desire  it,  and  will  it. 


368  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

THE  BLUE  JAY. 

Oh  roguish  robber  of  thy  feathered  mates, 

In  coat  of  steely  blue,  all  checked  in  white  and  black, 

We  hear  thy  "coogle,  coogle"  from  the  tree  tops,    when 

On  mischief  bent  thou  callest  to  thy  mates, 

To  rob  a  new  found  nest  of  eggs  or  downy  birds; 

Or  pluck  from  off  the  jealous  guarded  tree 

The  juicy,  ruddy  cherries,  ripe  and  sweet; 

Ah,  naughty  rogue  with  saucy  lifted  crest, 

We  think  thy  pretty  coat  is  the  best  part  of  thee, 

As  on  low  tree  tops,  on  the  fence  or  earth, 

Thou  challengest  thy  humbler  mates, 

To  test  their  strength  with  thee. 


369 


SUPPLEMENTAL  LIVES 


There  are  so  many  poor  souls  on  earth  who  have  to  bear 
the  sins  of  others  all  their  lives.  Some  are  so  poor  and  despised 
that  every  hand  and  every  foot  seems  to  be  against  them.  If 
we  were  not  so  afraid  of  soiling  ourselves. 

I  lately  read  once  again,  of  that  sweet  Quaker  Saint  Eliza- 
beth Fry,  how  she  went  through  prisons,  poorhouses,  jails  and 
Asylums  for  the  Insane,  associating  with  herself  other  good 
women,  and  among  the  most  vicious  and  violent  and  brought 
the  peace  and  the  order  of  Heaven.  All  of  us  can  find  some  one 
who  needs  us,  and  we  can  let  them  lean  on  us,  and  of  our  surplus 
we  can  give  strength  enough  to  keep  many  of  these  weak  ones 
irajine  with  the  good. 

I  befriended  a  woman  who  was  a  harlot.  She  had  brought 
forth  children  with  no  certainty  as  to  their  fathers;  she  was  the 
prey  of  evil  men ;  she  was  a  town  scandal.  One  good  Catholic 
woman  had  compassion  on  her  and  helped  her.  She  fell  ill  and 
was  so  notorious  and  dirty  on  her  premises  no  one  would  go 
near  her.  Her  children  were  scape  goats  for  all  sorts  of  things. 
The  police  insulted  her  at  will,  once  shooting  a  pet  dog  that 
guarded  her  door.  I  took  her  in  charge,  rebuked,  admonished 
and  corrected  her,  gave  to  her  and  begged  for  her,  and  many 
of  the  community  were  scandalized  thereat.  A  good  woman 
was  willing  to  clean  up  her  premises,  and  together  she  and  I 
cleaned  and  scrubbed  with  soap  and  water  and  brush  and  broom 
and  mop.  She  was  humble  and  did  mend  her  ways,  but 
no  one  believed.  I  had  to  make  a  fight  for  her;  I  raked  the 
police  who  shot  her  dog,  I  felt  as  badly  as  she  did  that  the  little 
friend  who  loved  her  and  her  children  whom  so  many  despised, 
and  who  helped  to  watch  and  keep  her  when  evil  men  sought 
to  do  her  wrong,  was-  slain  and  died  in  agony  at  her  feet  and  at 
her  own  door.  I  looked  after  the  children  who  were  all  boys, 
and  scolded  and  encouraged,  and  taught  them  the  best  I  knew. 
They  repaid  me  by  deeds.  One  day  two  of  them  came  to  see 
me  after  being  very  badly  treated,  and  while  one  threatened 
what  he'd  do  to  pay  back,  the  other  said,  "Boys  like  us  have 
no  chance".  "No"  I  said  ,  "you  do  not,  but  you  will  just  have 
to  be  good  anyway  and  do  your  level  best".  And  I  told  the 


370  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

other  to  shut  up  his  threats  as  it  was  foolishness.  The  boys 
grew  up  and  were  all  good  boys.  They  took  care  of  their 
Mother,  which  is  more  than  many  with  better  opportunities  do. 
All  are  grown  and  the  mother  has  no  more  trouble  for  the  future. 
It  is  easy  for  such  boys  to  get  into  jail  and  into  the  Pen,  when 
no  one  cares  for  them.  I  was  always  thankful  I  had  a  chance 
to  help  do  God's  will  for  these  lads. 

There  was  another,  an  orphan,  who  had  a  drunken  father 
and  was  knocked  about,  and  I  helped  him  in  all  sorts  of  ways 
when  others  only  turned  a  cold  shoulder  to  him.  He  got  into 
jail  and  from  there  into  Reform  School,  and  yet  he  was  not  a 
bad  boy,  but  he  was  out  of  his  County  and  among  strangers. 
He  wrote  to  me  from  a  jail  and  wanted  reading  matter.  He 
came  directly  to  me  when  he  got  out.  He  became  a  successful 
farmer  and  an  honest  man,  and  I  feel  honored  by  his  friend- 
ship which  is  sincere.  Everybody  has  such  chances;  many  do 
this  work,  but  not  all  who  might.  "Let  us  who  are  strong  help 
the  weak"  says  Paul.  Yes,  let  us.  It  strengthens  us,  when 
we  help  those  who  need  our  aid  sorely.  I  look  at  all  the  places 
where  people  let  the  wretched  lean  on  them— Schools,  Refor- 
matories, Settlements,  good  Poor  houses,  Old  People's  Homes, 
Childrens'  Homes,  Social  Settlements  refuges  of  all  sorts;  the 
noble  work  of  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  of  the  Salvation  Army;  of  Wm. 
Booth,  Jane  Adams,  Frances  Willard,  Dorothea  Dix,  Florence 
Nightingale,  Clara  Barton,  Ben  Lindsay  and  so  many  many 
others,  all  as  good  as  Saints  and  Angels  to  the  afflicted  and 
needy.  But  in  each  community  there  is  work  for  us  every  one 
to  do.  We  need  to  be  Supplemental  Lives  to  many. 


A  LOVE  STORY  371 

GOD'S  ESTIMATE  OF  MAN. 

' '  What  a  piece  of  work  is  man!  How  noble  in  reason!  How 
infinite  in  faculty!  Inform  and  moving  how  express  and  ad- 
mirable! In  action  how  like  an  Angel!  In  apprehension  how 
like  a  God"!— Shakespeare. 

'  47  will  make  a  man  more  precious  than  fine  gold;  even  a 
man  than  the  golden  wedge  of  Ophir" .— Isaiah. 

In  these  days  when  human  life  seems  so  cheap,  and  when 
they  who  contribute  individually  or  collectively  to  the  death  of 
a  man  and  make  so  little  of  the  loss  of  him  to  his  family,  it  is 
refreshing  to  read  that  God,  puts  a  high  financial  value  on  man 
as  a  man.  I  was  much  troubled  one  year  to  awaken  the  drink- 
ing men  of  my  County  and  the  big  boys  to  a  sense  of  their  real 
value  as  men,  and  of  the  too  light  valuation  they  and  others  place 
upon  themselves  as  men,  when  I  ran  across  Isaiah's  thought. 
I  asked  my  old  time  teacher  and  friend  in  Washington,  D.  C. , 
Wm.  T.  Harris,  to  find  me  the  value  of  the  golden  wedge  of 
Ophir,  for  no  tables  that  I  knew  of  gave  its  value.  He  sent 
me  word  its  value  was  estimated  at  about  three  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  dollars,  over  a  quarter  of  a  million  of  dollars.  If 
we  were  to  estimate  the  financial  value  of  man  according  to 
the  standard  given  in  Holy  Writ,  human  life  would  speedily 
become  more  precious.  As  it  is,  we  debase  and  debauch  men, 
and  when  they  die  or  get  killed  as  a  consequence,  we  call  them 
"poor  creatures",  and  if  their  mothers,  wives,  or  children  sue 
for  the  loss  sustained  by  their  death  as  the  head  of  the  family, 
the  verdict  rendered  will  be  "nil",  or  less  than  the  price  of  a 
good  horse  in  many  instances,  and  the  Attorney's  fee  to  be 
paid  out  of  that.  I  knew  a  man  killed  on  a  Railroad  track  with  a 
bottle  of  saloon  whiskey  in  his  pocket.  He  was  so  drunk  he 
was  crawling  over  a  cattle  guard  on  all  fours  when  a  train 
struck  and  killed  him.  He  had  a  wife  and  six  children.  He 
earned  them  a  living,  and  they  got  one  hundred  and  fifty  dol- 
lars in  damages  when  they  sued,  and  had  their  Attorney's  bill 
to  pay  out  of  that.  I  knew  two  little  lads  whose  mother  was 
dead  and  the  grandmother  kept  them  while  the  father  made 


372  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

the  living.  He  was  killed  while  trying  to  board  a  train  while 
drunk.  The  children  got  nothing  and  were  put  in  an  institu- 
tion to  be  supported  by  the  people,  while  the  men  who  sold  the 
father  the  drink,  contrary  to  law,  that  caused  his  death  were 
left  scot  free. 

I  urged  this  matter  upon  men.  Why  do  that  which  will 
cheapen  you  financially  so  that  when  you  are  killed  as  a  result 
of  the  drink,  you  are  worth  less  than  a  good  horse?  Try  and 
be  worth  all  the  good  Book  says  you  are.  Be  worth  three  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  dollars  at  the  least  and  raise  the  value 
of  human  life.  The  Old  Book  is  full  of  wisdom.  '  'Thou  shalt 
not  kill".  A  man  has  large  money  values,  as  a  Son  of  God. 
When  men  measure  up  to  the  thought  of  the  Lord  that  a  man 
is  worth  three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  of  the  finest 
gold,  human  life  will  not  be  so  cheap  as  now,  nor  will  men  sell 
their  fellow  men  by  evil  things  that  destroy.  The  value  of 
human  life  will  rise  when  we  measure  it  to  the  God  ideal. 


A  LOVE  STORY  373 

STATUES    OF    WOMEN 

The  first  statue  of  a  woman  I  ever  saw,  outside  of  the 
Virgin  Mary,  and  mythological  characters,  was  in  New  Orleans 
in  1885.  "Margaret",  as  she  is  called,  was  an  unlearned  Irish 
woman  who  kept  a  bake-shop,  and  her  heart  was  so  full  of  love 
and  sympathy  for  the  helpless  that  every  day  she  gave  bread 
to  children  who  needed  it  and  the  poor  she  never  refused. 
Margaret  grew  rich,  and  she  gave  her  riches  away  in  good 
works.  When  she  died  the  City  of  New  Orleans  gave  as  a 
memorial  to  her,  a  statue.  It  stands  in  a  well  known  square. 
Margaret,  carved  in  marble  as  she  looked  in  life,  sits  in  an  arm 
chair,  upon  a  pedestal,  a  little  child  beside  her,  and  is  a  re- 
minder of  a  gracious  life  full  of  good  deeds,  and  of  love  to  God 
and  love  to  the  little  children  and  to  the  poor. 

The  statue  of  Frances  E.  Willard,  the  great  National  Head 
of  the  "Woman's  Christian  Temperance  Union",  was  the  gift  of 
the  State  of  Illinois  to  the  United  States  of  America,  and 
stands  in  Statuary  Hall  in  the  National  Capitol  at  Washington, 
the  only  woman  there.  I  think  there  is  a  statue  of  Sacajawa 
at  Portland,  Oregon,  famous  as  the  guide  of  the  Clark  and 
Lewis  expedition  that  discovered  and  appropriated  for  the 
United  States  of  America  the  Northwest  Territory. 

The  heads  of  Clara  Barton,  Susan  B.  Anthony  and  Eliza- 
beth Cady  Stanton  in  bas  relief  adorned  the  grand  staircase  of 
the  great  State  House  at  Albany,  N.  Y. ,  before  the  great  fire 
there.  This  is  all,  so  far  as  I  know,  of  Statues  erected  to 
women  in  America,  except  maybe  a  few  in  cemeteries.  In  the 
old  world  there  are  many  statues,  but  few  to  women  except  to  Vic- 
toria. I  heard  of  one  in  Wales  set  up  to  a  woman  by  the  miners. 
There  are  plenty  of  statues  of  men,  and  the  major  part  of  them 
erected  by  National  or  State  funds.  Public  men  of  every  kind 
and  character  are  represented.  Why  not  a  statue  of  Julia 
Ward  Howe,  who  wrote  the  one  great  lyric  of  the  Civil  War, 
"The  Battle  Hymn  of  the  Republic"?  Why  not  one  of  Anna 
Ella  Carroll,  who  planned  the  Campaign  of  the  Tennessee  which 
made  the  close  of  the  war  a  finality,  and  who  wrote  war  tracts 
that  preserved  our  credit  abroad  during  the  Civil  war.  Boston 
refuses  to  allow  Mrs.  Howe's  picture  to  hang  in  Fanuel  Hall. 


374  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

What  a  satire  on  liberty.  It  is  akin  to  the  guillotiningof  Madame 
Roland.  Anna  Ella  Carroll  was  refused  a  pension  and  died 
poor,  cared  for  by  friends,  and  yet  the  money  of  women  has 
gone  to  set  up  statues  to  men.  Let  us  demand  some  recogni- 
tion of  our  noble  women  as  well  as  of  our  noble  men  hereafter. 
We  have  plenty  we  ought  to  commemorate.  Let  us  drop 
predjudice  and  get  up  an  allegorical  figure  of  the  farmer 
woman.  Ceres  does  not  fully  represent  her,  if  it  takes  a 
woman  with  an  Amazonian  pose  and  with  a  face  as  grim  as 
fate  to  terrify  Chicago  with  "7  will".  Surely  the  women  of 
the  farm  who  mean,  and  do  work  success  to  our  great  Republic, 
ought  to  be  commemorated  in  bronze  or  marble  or  both. 

Too,  oft  women  everywhere  might  say  with  Shakespeare, 
"Let  fame  which  all  seek  after  in  their  lives  be  writ  in  death 
upon  my  brazen  tomb".  That  is  where  most  women  get  it  as 
the  "relict"  of  some  John  Smith,  or  Tom  Jones,  who  married 
soon  again  after  she  was  worn  out,  with  child  bearing  and 
grafting,  and  hard  work.  Let  us  have  some  statues  to  women. 
Their  virtues  and  their  labors  need  commemoration.  They  are 
as  mothers  and  wives  the  solid  substratum  of  the  Republic. 


A  LOVE  STORY  375 

THE  SERVANT  GIRL  QUESTION 

"The  Bells  are  all  ringing  for  Sarah,  Sarah,  Sarah 
The  Bells  are  all  ringing  for  Sarah,  Sarah  Ann". 

—  Old  Song 

The  bells  keep  ringing  for  Sarah  Ann,  but  she  don't  come 
at  their  call  as  she  used  to  do,  and  everywhere  the  question  of 
WHY  is  agitated.  Sarah  Ann  has  learned  that  house  labor  is 
not  considered  noble,  that  it  is  menial,  so  she  despises  it  in  time. 
As  a  woman  she  finds  she  can  do  things  which,  while  they  do 
not  pay  her  so  well,  are  not  regarded  as  menial,  but  honorable; 
and  she  has  one  day  in  the  week  she  can  call  her  own,  Sunday; 
whereas  if  she  worked  out  in  a  kitchen  it  would  be  the  hardest 
day  of  the  week.  She  escapes  the  hurry  and  monotony  of  the 
kitchen,  the  running  over  and  tearing  up  of  her  work  by  child- 
ren, and  others.  She  escapes  a  lot  of  "sass",  and  her  life  in 
many  ways  as  to  days  and  evenings  is  free,  if  it  don't  pay  so 
well  in  cash.  No,  Sarah  from  the  menial  has  come  to  be  the 
"boss".  Women  and  men  are  learning  to  walk  softly  before 
their  house  helpers,  to  pay  them  better  wages  and  to  treat  them 
with  respect,  and  to  give  them  comfortable  quarters  to  occupy 
as  their  own.  Sarah  begins  to  legislate  for  herself  and  if  she 
renders  what  she  ought,  she  can  demand  about  what  she  will. 
The  disappearance  of  the  hired  girl  necessitates  the  placing  of 
the  young  in  the  traces  to  work,  which  they  need  tremendously, 
so  the  loss  of  the  hired  girl  is  after  all  a  blessing.  We  need  to 
run  schools  of  instruction  in  the  kitchen,  chamber,  cellar  and 
parlor,  with  "Ma"  as  boss  and  chief  instructor.  We  need  "Pa" 
to  be  at  the  head  of  a  similar  school  in  the  back  yard,  at  the 
wood  pile,  in  the  barn,  the  garden,  etc.  Many  who  used  to  be 
willing  to  let  their  girls  work  out,  fear  to  let  them  go.  Among 
so  many  men  the  girl  from  the  country  or  the  poor  family,  is 
considered  proper  prey  for  the  vicious;  men  tempt  and  lure  in- 
nocent girls  all  unwitting  to  their  ruin,  and  many  traffic  in  them 
in  the  White  Slave  trade.  People  fear  to  let  their  girls  work 
out. 

If  I  had  a  daughter  I'd  be  afraid  to  let  her  work  out  unless 
I  knew  exactly  where  she  was  going,  the  family  she  went  with 


376  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

and  the  conditions  around  her.  On  every  hand  a  danger  lurks 
for  the  girl  who  works  out  because  her  place  is  considered 
menial.  There  is  beginning  however  to  grow  a  larger  respect  for 
"Sarah  Ann"  in  the  house  work,  and  "Sarah  Ann"  is  learning 
to  respect  herself,  and  no  doubt  will,  till  the  house  worker  be- 
comes an  honored  member  of  society  and  her  work  is  no  longer 
considered  menial. 

On  the  farms  the  girl  who  "helps",  is  generally  a  neigh- 
bors' daughter,  and  she  is  treated  as  one  of  the  family,  and  is 
respected  as  such. 


A  LOVE  STORY  377 

THE  GRAFTER 

'  'The  Grafter  is  one  who  takes  what  is  not  his,  but  who  de- 
sires to  be  thought  of  as  a  virtuous  citizen". 

I  smile  sometimes  when  I  see  how  excited  the  men  of 
America  have  become  about  grafts  and  Grafters.  The  mere 
man  is  becoming  so  emotional  I  am  getting  convinced  he  is  not 
very  safe  to  trust  as  a  voter.  Why,  men  get  excited  and  fight, 
and  they  curse,  and  swear,  and  get  drunk  and  shoot  themselves 
on  purpose,  and  accidentally,  and  they  do  all  sorts  of  things 
that  would  stamp  any  woman  as  most  unsafe  and  improper. 

The  cry  of  the  Grafter  is  now  exciting  the  emotions  of 
men  greatly.  I  speak  of  the  men  in  the  mass,  of  course,  and 
except  the  men  of  Wyoming,  Colorado,  Utah,  Idaho,  Washing- 
ton and  California,  who  seem  to  be  more  nearly  normal  in  mind 
and  character.  The  Grafter  is  thick  everywhere,  I  once  ^ent 
into  a  cornfield  of  mine  and  there  under  a  tree  laid  a  couple  of 
men  who  should  have  been  at  work.  The  horses  stood  snoozing 
too.  As  I  came  up  there  was  a  scrambling  and  a  great  sputter 
and  work  began.  I  went  away  and  came  back  again  after 
awhile  and  the  same  thing  was  on.  I  said  to  myself,  '  'Here 
are  two  grafters".  That  night  when  two  cultivators  were 
brought  up  torn  to  pieces,  on  purpose  I  am  convinced  to  punish 
me,  and  that  field  never  was  finished,  I  knew  they  were  Graft- 
ers; but  I  did  not  say  so,  nor  did  I  make  any  remarks. 

One  day  I  was  in  a  hotel  office  and  a  certain  County  Super- 
intendent of  Schools  was  present,  and  some  way  the  matter  of 
women's  work  came  up.  My  Superintendent  said  his  wife 
earned  no  money.  "What",  said  I,  "doesn't  she  wash  and 
iron  and  scrub  and  sew  and  cook  and  bake  and  clean  house  and 
mend  and  darn  and  also  raise  your  children"?,  and  he  had  a 
large  family.  He  began  to  talk  loudly  and  said,  "She  don't 
earn  any  money,  she  don't  earn  any  money".  "Oh,  yes  she 
does",  said  I,  "I  can  prove  it.  A  woman  in  this  house  a  few 
days  ago,  with  the  money  she  made  here  and  saved  as  cook, 
bought  forty  acres  of  land  and  paid  for  it,  didn't  she  Mr.  ? 
Smith",  this  is  to  the  Proprietor  of  the  house.  He  was  of  the 
same  kind  as  the  County  Superintendent  of  Schools  and  he  said, 
"He,  he,  he,  I  don't  know  anything  about  it". 


378  *  'A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

I  wanted  to  call  him  a  -  -  1—  —story  teller,  but  I  didn't. 
I  knew  he  had  said  he  intended  to  let  the  law  settle  his  estate, 
so  as  to  graft  his  wife,  so  I  said  to  the  Superintendent  "Yes, 
she  did,  and  if  your  wife  had  had  the  same  chance,  as  smart  as  she 
is,  she'd  no  doubt  have  been  able  to  buy  eighty  acres  of  land" 
and  I  said  then  to  the  gentleman  what  is  true.  "The  single, 
woman  handles  and  spends  her  own  wages.  The  married 
woman's  husband  gets  her's  and  says  it  is  his,  and  uses  it", 
and  when  his  wife  wants  some  money  he  is  like  to  say  as  an  old 
Quaker  said  to  his  wife  who  came  meachin  to  him  for  a  little 
money  as  she  wanted  to  go  visiting;  in  a  loud  voice,  "Mariar, 
where  is  that  twenty-five  cents  I  gave  thee  two  weeks  ago". 
There  was  a  big  Ha,  Ha,  from  the  folks  in  the  office  and  I  went 
out  and  banged  the  door. 

Men  everywhere  graft  women  in  this  way,  so  it's  their 
own  mothers,  their  sisters,  their  daughters,  their  wives;  every- 
body, smarts  under  injustice  and  robbery,  and  women  at  last, 
are  beginning  to.  Grafting  is  grafting  just  the  same, 
whether  it's  man  to  man,  corporation  to  men,  or  in  Legislature 
or  Congress  or  anywhere,  or  to  women.  Women  have  hardly 
felt  it  yet,  for  "duty"  has  been  dinned  unto  them  so  long,  and 
self -sacrifice,  that  they  have  submitted  willingly.  To  instance, 
I  had  laid  down  this  doctrine  in  a  meeting,  and  I  said  to  a  young 
woman  I  had  taught  in  my  Band  of  Hope,  "Lizzie,  whose 
money  was  it  you  earned  when  you  taught  school"?  "Mine", 
she  replied  with  great  emphasis".  "Well  now"  I  said,  "you 
are  married,  have  two  children  and  work  harder  than  you  did 
when  you  taught  school.  Whose  is  that  money  you  earn  now"? 
She  was  rather  flustered  and  a  little  hurt;  she  thought  she  was 
sort  of  disloyal  to  her  husband,  but  she  had  a  new  outlook  on 
an  old  subject  and  it  conflicted  with  the  ideas  of  duties  and 
self-sacrifice  that  ran  in  her  brain  for  ages  and  ages.  Nancy 
Sikes  was  the  limit;  but  another  class  of  women  is  coming  up 
that  demand  justice,  as  the  basis  of  righteousness.  Yes,  it  is 
something  men  ought  to  be  ashamed  of,  to  graft  their  women 
folks. 

Women  pay  large  taxes  everywhere  in  America,  and  any 
man  can  vote  taxes  on  her  property  and  she  can  say  nothing, 
except  in  six  states;  she  must  submit, and  a  lot  of  poor  wretched 


EDMUND  J- JAMBS 

A  LOVE  STORY  379 

ignorant  silly  women  known  as  "Antis"  are  trying  to  keep  in- 
justice alive  and  so  defeat  that  righteousness  which  is  of  God 
in  this  matter. 

In  Legislatures  grafters  go  down;  brick  men, machine  men, 
cement  men,  pitch  men,  and  the  whole  Grafter  push,  and  money 
is  sent  to  the  Legislature  to  buy  votes  enough  to  get  a  law,  so 
that  three  or  four  men  in  town  can  levy  tax  on  everybody's 
property  and  pave  the  streets  and  then  sell  their  homes  out  if 
they  can't  pay  the  tax  assessed.  This  is  a  graft  too,  and  no 
woman  can  say  a  word;  men  can  elect  a  City  board  if  they  will 
and  defeat  the  thing  if  they  have  sense  enough,  but  I'm  sorry 
to  say  with  winkin  and  blinkin  and  nod,  they  let  the  thing  get 
through  too  often,  and  women  are  sold  out  and  some  men  too. 
Women  would  not  allow  such  wrongs,  they  have  had  to  squeeze 
a  penny  too  long  to  get  the  most  out  of  it  while  their  men  folks 
grafted  their  wages.  But  women  can't  vote. 

I  knew  of  a  woman,  a  widow,  who  was  so  unlucky  as  to 
have  a  home  on  a  corner.  She  was  paved  on  both  sides  and  it 
cost  $900.  She  had  to  sell  for  $1000;  she  had  no  money  to  pay 
her  assessment,  her  home  was  gone  and  she  had  $100  left.  She 
was  a  victim  of  the  Grafters  of  her  community,  and  this  is  only 
one  instance  in  many.  I  saw  where  a  young  woman  in  Chicago, 
a  teacher,  had  a  little  home  where  she  and  her  mother  lived. 
They  had  been  paved.  The  young  woman  fell  into  bad  health; 
an  order  went  out  to  re-pave  that  street,  as  our  grafting  pav- 
ing law  has  declared  they  can  be  paved  again  and  again.  This  was 
too  much,  and  in  the  distraction  of  the  knowledge  that  she  and 
her  mother  would  lose  their  home,  as  she  could  not  earn  the 
wherewithal  to  pay  that  iniquitous  graft,  nor  a  living,  she  cast 
herself  into  Lake  Michigan  and  perished.  The  worst  lot  of 
Grafters  are  the  men  who  go  up  on  the  stand  and  swear  the 
property  to  be  paved  is  increased  in  value  to  the  amount  of  the 
paving.  This  is  true  in  large  towns  where  the  land  and  proper- 
ty upon  it  is  valuable;  but  in  the  little  towns  it  is  not  so,  yet 
reputable  business  man  will  take  the  stand  and  swear  property 
is  worth  in  dollars  and  cents  more  than  all  the  socalled  improve- 
ment cost.  It  is  not  proved,  and  it  cannot  be  for  it  is  not  new 
and  other  testimony  is  choked  off ,  and  women  can  only  cry  and 
wring  their  hands  as  those  grafters  prey  upon  them. 


380  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

I  often  tell  my  farm  friends  the  day  is  not  far  off,  yes,  is 
here,  when,  if  they  do  not  look  out,  the  Grafters  will  go  down 
to  our  Legislatures  and  get  laws  passed  to  pave  the  whole 
state  and  the  big  Grafters  will  be  on  hand  when  the  farms  are 
sold  out,  to  buy  them  in. 

Once  in  Illinois  an  attempt  of  this  kind  was  made  by  a  lot 
of  Grafters  in  the  Legislature,  and  the  farmers  of  Champaign 
County,  who  were  wide  awake,  gathered  to  the  number  of  four 
hundred  and  they  declared  the  proposed  law  if  passed  would 
saddle  a  debt  of  $40  on  every  acre  of -land  they  possessed,  and 
they  said  to  the  Illinois  Legislature  "Gentlemen,  you  dare  not 
do  it"  and  they  did  not.  But  the  Grafter  is  abroad  in  the  land, 
and  the  machine  man,  and  the  cement  man,  brick  man,  pitch 
man,  and  all  the  rest  are  waiting  an  unguarded  moment  to  get 
in  their  work.  So  farmers  of  the  United  States  look  out,  and 
you  should  as  a  preliminary  enfranchise  your  women  and  cease 
heaping  Graft  on  them.  You  need  them  to  vote  as  well  as 
you  need  the  ballot.  Many  of  our  laws  are  bad,  and  the  ballot 
in  the  hands  of  women  would  help  mend  them.  I  do  not  think 
well  of  my  Countrymen  who  have  enfranchised  every  sort  of 
foreigner,  and  part  of  the  Indians,  and  yet  deny  their  women 
folks  the  ballot  to  protect  themselves  and  who  pardon  convicts 
out  of  penitentiary  so  they  can  vote.  Are  women  not  patriots? 
I  am  in  the  fifth  generation  in  America.  My  Ancestors  were 
vital  in  the  American  Revolution ;  yet  Old  World  people  who 
can't  speak  the  vernacular  vote  taxes  on  me  and  sell  me  out  if 
I  do  not  pay.  The  Negro,  after  generations  in  Africa  as  a 
slave,  does  the  same  to  me  and  mine  and  others.  And  the 
Indian,  fresh  from  the  scalping  knife  and  tomahawk  as  well,  is 
a  vital  force  in  politics,  and  I  am  nothing  nor  is  any  other 
woman.  We  are  all  victim  of  Graft. 

I  have  a  friend  who  wrote  a  song  which  she  said  I  was  the 
inspiration  of,  and  I  love  to  sing  it  because  it  is  true.  It  is 
called. 

"AMERICAN  CITIZENS  WHO  CANNOT  VOTE". 

I  dreampt  it  was  election  day 
In  this  our  Yankee  Nation, 
And  I  a  stranger  on  these  shores 


A  LOVE  STORY  381 

Stood  by  for  observation. 
, .  I  saw  the  people  come  and  go 

The  Millionaire,  the  Hackman, 
And  beside  the  man  who  could  not  vote 
Came  the  Author  and  the  black  man. 

CHO.  —  Yes,  one  and  all  came  to  the  polls 
To  vote  as  honest  yoemen, 
But  the  Indian,  the  Chinaman, 
The  Idiot  and  the  Woman. 

I  turned  to  someone  standing  near 

To  ask  an  explanation, 

Why  those  four  persons  could  not  vote 

In  this  enfranchised  Nation. 

The  Indian  is  too  savage  yet, 

The  Coolie  scarce  more  human, 

The  feeble  minded,  here  he  smiled, 

But  what  about  the  woman.     CHO. — 

She's  in  the  pulpit  at  the  bar, 
She's  in  the  School  and  College 
Her  voice  and  pen  incite  the  world 
To  virtue,  truth  and  knowledge, 
She's  the  dear  companion  of  your  home, 
And  you  must  own  my  Brother 
.  She's  what  no  man  can  e'er  deny 
She's  every  Voter's  Mother.     CHO.— 

Composer  Mrs.  Nettie  Bacon  Christian— Published  by 
Thompson,  Chicago,  111. 

I  can  only  trust  men  will  cease  their  grafting,  and  the  first 
step  they  take  is  to  cease  grafting  women  and  give  them  what 
the  good  Lord  intended  and  ordered  in  the  beginning,  One  Half 
of  everything.  Our  farmer  women  who  everywhere  have  the 
full  half  of  the  farm  work,  want  it,  and  our  farmers  ought  to 
be  ardent  advocates  for  the  release  of  women  from  the  Graft- 
ers, and  let  her  have  justice  and  so  end  the  Grafter  who  grafts 
us  all. 


382 


A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


"THE  TRUE  MOTHER  IS  SHE  WHO  NUMBERS  HER  CHILD- 
REN BY  THE  THOUSAND." 


There  was  no  child  in  my  house,  and  I  was  often  asked  why 
I  bothered  myself  so  much  about  the  children  of  others.  I  of- 
ten said  "Mothers  are  promised '  salvation  in  childbearing. 
Verily  verily  what  shall  the  old  maids,  and  the  childless  women 
do  if  that  is  to  save  them" ?  (This  is  orthodox).  Also,  I  said 
"I  think  the  Mothers  have  front  seats  in  Heaven,  I  want  a  front 
seat  or  one  near  the  front".  But  the  truth  is,  every  child  ought 
to  be  as  dear  to  every  man  and  woman  as  though  it  were  of  his 
or  her  own  flesh  and  blood.  We  call  a  soul,  a  spirit  and  a  body 
into  being.  Everybody  is  in  Nature  bound  to  care  for  every 
child  and  make  it  easy  for  it  to  be  worthy  of  being  born ;  but 
we  curse  our  children  with  all  sorts  of  debasing  influences  and  I 
for  one,  was  opposed.  I  pledged  over  three  thousand 
children  to  total  abstinence  from  alchoholics,  and  I  taught  many 
others  I  did  not  pledge,  and  taught  as  far  as  I  could  the  best  of 
everything  I  knew.  I  did  my  very  level  best  to  fortify  them 
against  evil  on  every  hand,  and  to  strengthen  them  to  become  no- 
ble men  and  women.  Dear  little  children,  of  whom  Jesus  said, 
"It  were  better  one  had  a  millstone  tied  about  his  neck  and  be 
cast  into  the  sea  than  that  he  offend  one  of  these  little  ones". 
"It  is  not  the  will  of  your  Heavenly  Father  that  one  of  these 
little  ones  shall  perish.  Their  Angels  do  always  see  the  face 
of  my  Father  which  is  in  Heaven". 

"1  taught  all  the  children  I  instructed  Chas.  Kingsley's  lovely 
lines — 


.      A  LOVE  STORY  383 

"Be  good  dear  child  and  let  who  will  be  clever, 
DO  noble  things,  not  dream  them  all  day  long, 
And  so  make  life,  death  and  that  vast  forever, 
One  grand,  sweet  song." 

I  gave  them  parties,  and  many  festivals,  and  gifts.  I 
sent  New  Years'  cards  with  beautiful  thoughts  of  children— 
"Thou  art  like  unto  a  flower  etc.  "—to  the  parents.  I  sent  Scrip- 
ture excerpts  also,  about  children  and  parents. 

For  many  years  Mr.  Kepley  and  I  ran  a  large  Band  of  Hope 
in  Effingham.  He  furnished  the  house  and  the  funds,  and  we 
both  taught  with  the  help  of  others.  We  also  gathered  our 
children  in  the  whole  County  into  a  large  Band  of  Hope  that 
held  one  big  meeting  each  year  and  many  prizes  were  given. 
With  the  help  of  faithful  men  and  women  over  two  hundred 
Demorest  Medal  Contests  were  held,  to  get  them  worked  up.  I 
sent  out  thousands  of  circular  letters  through  the  Post  offices 
and  drilled  Contestants  all  that  time  free,  as  to  how  they  should 
speak,  and  others  also  did  splendid  work  along  that  line. 
Thousands  of  people  heard  good  doctrine-  from  the  mouths  of 
children.  Thousands  of  pages  of  Juvenile  Temperance  Songs 
and  Literature,  were  sent  free  all  over  the  County,  to  Catholic 
and  Lutheran,  as  well  as  Protestant  children.  Frances  E.  Wil- 
lard  medals  and  Catholic  Total  Abstinence  medals  were  scat- 
tered by  the  thousands  to  our  children,  and  others.  They  sang 
'  'Tremble  King  Alchohol  We  Shall  Grow  up",  '  'Saloons,  Saloons, 
Saloons  must  go",  and  the  song  of  poor  little  Katy  O'Malley 
stirred  many  a  heart.  Oh,  what  didn't  we  all  do?  Children 
are  a  power  for  a  reform  and  they  teach  and  lead  their  fathers 
and  mothers;  and  yet,  some  scoffed;  some  scolded,  some  jibed; 
but  some  stood  by  the  children,  and  now  they  are  grown,  and 
growing  up,  and  we  can  see  the  results  everywhere. 

Out  of  this  work  with  the  children  developed  Preachers, 
Lawyers,  Doctors,  Reformers,  clean  Business  Men,  clean 
Voters;  wherever  our  children  are  by  the  grace  of  God,  the  most 
of  them  are  Sowers  of  the  good  seed  and  doers  of  the  work  they 
have  not  forgotten.  We  had  one  absolutely  clean  election  the 
year  of  1910  in  Effingham  County  out  of  our  children's  work 
and  from  all  the  signs  we  shall  have  more.  "An  endless  chain 


384  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

of  countless  rings  the  next  unto  the  farthest  brings".  There 
was  an  inspiration  in  this  Great  Reform  and  the  children  caught 
it.  Many  of  them  now  teach  their  children,  and  their  children 
shall  teach  their  grandchildren,  the  Great  Reform,  the  basis  of 
all  Reforms.  Our  children  are  everywhere  in  positions  of 
power  and  trust.  So  we  numbered  our  children  by  the  thou- 
sand—my husband  and  I— and  others  did  as  much,  and  it  taught 
us  all  to  know  that  the  '  'True  Father  and  Mother  should  Number 
their  Children  by  the  Thousand." 


A  LOVE  STORY  385 


DER  LEEDLE  DEDOUGHDALLER. 

WRITTEN  FOR  A  NINE  YEAR  OLD  BOY  IN  GERMAN  COSTUME,  AND 
RECITED  AT  A  COUNTY  MEETING 


Ich  bin  ein  leedle  Deitcher, 

But  ich  dond  trink  etwas  beer; 
Ich  yust  bin  ein  dedoughdaller, 

Like  von  off  you  poys  here. 
Ich  loef  to  sing  "Saloons  Must  Go!" 

Oond  vill  help  to  MAKE  dem  went; 
Ich  would  nod  gif  doo  ein  saloon 

Von  single  liddle  cent. 
Ich  HATE  saloons,  dem  NASTY  dings; 

Dey  makes  poor  mudders  gry 
Oond  dakes  die  schilders  brod  avay, 

Oond  many  freeze  oond  die. 
Some  day  ven  ve  vas  dwendy-von, 

Some  fine  elecshun  day 
US  POYS  vill  all  boot  in  ein  fote 

To  drife  saloons  away; 
Oond  den  how  happy  vill  Ich  bin  — 

Ich  yoost  vill  shump  and  shoudt, 
Oond  vont  we  haf  von  goot  dime,  poys, 

Mit  no  saloons  apout? 


386  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

BLESSINGS  AND  CURSINGS. 

A  woman  had  a  little  son  who  was  exceedingly  selfish  and 
she  wished  to  cure  him.  There  was  a  neighbor  lad  who  was 
very  poor  and  had  little  to  amuse  himself  with;  so  the  mother 
proposed  to  her  son  to  give  him  a  sled  he  owned,  since  he  had  a 
new  one.  The  stingy  little  soul  did  not  want  to,  and  the 
mother  tried  to  make  him  see  a  reason  why  he  should.  She 
finally  played  upon  his  selfishness  by  suggesting  he  would  feel 
good  if  he  gave  the  other  child  such  a  pleasure.  Finally  he 
gave  the  sled,  but  he  at  once  began  to  whine  to  "feel  good." 
That  was  a  poser  for  the  fond  mother;  but  there  came  a  snow 
and  the  owner  of  the  old  sled  came  out  to  play  with  it.  The 
donor  was  kept  in  by  some  childish  indisposition,  and  he  looked 
out  the  window  and  saw  his  old  sled  with  the  new  owner  who 
waved  a  hand  at  him.  He  stood  at  the  window  and  watched  as 
the  little  lad  ran  and  slid  and  had  a  good  time  generally.  The 
boy  who  gave  the  sled  was  soon  laughing  at  the  droll  antics 
and  the  happiness  the  other  boy  had  with  his  gift,  and  he  turned 
to  his  mother  and  said,  "Ma,  I  feel  better  now".  The  most  of 
us  are  like  the  little  lad,  we  want  our  blessings  at  once  from 
the  things  we  do.  I  have  heard  people  say,  I  have  seen  others 
backslide,  as  it  is  called,  because  they  claim  they  had  no  returns 
from  the  good  things  they  did. 

Foolish  people;  blessings  come  at  once,  as  do  curses,  as  we 
call  them.  The  men  and  women  who,  like  Sir  Galahad,  do  not 
give  themselves  with  their  gift  get  nothing;  the  blessing  or 
curse  we  earn  does  not  wait,  it  begins  at  once,  for  life  forms  in 
us  according  to  our  deeds,  and  the  operations  of  the  deed  begin 
at  once. 

Jesus  knew  that  Judas  was  a  devil,  and  a  devil  from  the 
beginning,  as  he  said,  for  his  deeds  formed  him,  the  real 
man  and  woman  is  formed  according  to  their  deeds,  and  what  one 
is,  shines  in  the  countenance,  images  in  the  figure,  and  modu- 
lates the  voice,  for  his  heart  is  true  and  out  of  the  heart  are 
the  issues  of  life,  and  whether  we  meet  with  neglect  or  scorn 
or  ingratitude  in  those  we  try  to  help,  matters  not,  the  bles- 
sing of  the  good  deed  has  begun  and,  the  Holy  Grail  is  at  our 
lips. 


A  LOVE  STORY  387 

So  of  the  evil  one  does;  it  begins  to  form  the  man  or  woman 
at  once,  and,  though  hidden  like  the  Ostrich,  with  its  head  in 
the  sand,  the  body  of  the  evil  deed  is  patent  to  all.  We  never 
wait  a  moment  to  receive  our  blessings  or  curses,  they  begin  at 
once  and  work  to  a  final  culmination.  '  'Who  gives  himself  with 
his  gift  feeds  three— himself,  the  dear  Lord  Christ  and  Me", 
and  so  he  brings  his  own  blessings,  and  his  own  curses. 


388  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


MEXICAN  WAR  TROPHIES. 

Seventy  thousand  volunteers  in  '46  enlisted  for  the  Mexican 
War  which  ran  1846-1847-and  1848,  They  fought  seventy  bat- 
tles and  won  them  all.  From  Mexico  they  captured  California, 
Colorado,  Nevada,  Arizona,  Utah,  New  Mexico  and  Wyoming. 
The  United  States  ended  that  War  and  paid  cash  for  much  of 
the  captured  territory,  and  it  became  the  property  of  the  United 
States  of  America.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  Mexican  War 
what  would  the  United  States  have  been  to-day?  A  small  Gov- 
ernment—penned in  on  the  South  and  West  by  Mexicans,  and 
with  European  powers  continually  attempting  to  grab  Mexican 
Territory.  Now  the  United  States  thanks  to  the  Mexican  War 
sweeps  from  ocean  to  ocean,  has  allied  unto  herself  the  Sand- 
wich Islands,  and  the  Phillipines.  From  a  Nation  of  small 
moment  she  has  become  the  model  and  the  pattern  for  all  the 
Nations  of  the  earth  and  to  their  benefit.  Who  shall  say  it  is  a  mere 
chance  or  a  mere  happen-so?  It  is  impossible  to  compute  the 
riches  the  Mexican  War  added  to  the  United  States.  We  acquired 
mines  of  gold  and  silver  and  iron  and  lead  and  jewels  and  pre- 
cious minerals  of  all  kinds,  and  we  became  possessed  of  land,  — 
yes,  an  Empire.  Never  a  Nation  received  such  treasures  before 
nor  since,  and  by  an  army  whose  soldiers  were  mainly  volun- 
teers, and  who  were  humane  dwellers  in  our  homes  before  they 
went  to  war.  Millions  of  acres  of  land  we  gained;  billions  of 
dollars  in  treasure  we  acquired;  and  now  crossed  by  the  rail- 
roads everywhere,  and  filled  with  fertile  farms  and  great  cities 
and  towns,  with  Colleges,  Churches,  Manufactures,  —every- 
thing, that  belongs  to  civilization,  we  expand. 

It  is  not  for  naught  the  people  of  this  Country  moved  out 
and  Westward,  following  the  steps  of  those  who  fought  in  the 
Mexican  War.  They  went  as  the  birds,  as  all  things  in  Nature, 
obeying  an  impulse  they  could  not  resist.  We  became  part  of 
a  world  movement.  Just  as  the  stars  are  conjoined,  and  in 
systems  move  in  harmony  together  through  the  stellar  spaces 
in  obedience  to  a  law,  so  we  move  with  all  the  peoples  of  the 
earth  obedient  to  our  destiny,  as  surely  as  the  sun  and  moon 
and  stars  and  the  stellar  and  solar  systems  move. 


A  LOVE  STORY  389 

Ten  thousand  of  our  Mexican  War  Soldiers  left  their  bones 
to  bleach  on  Mexican  soil;  yet  the  United  States  refused  to 
pension  those  faithful  patriots  who  remained,  and  the  survivors 
of  those  who  died,  until  the  Civil  War  was  long  over.  Some 
of  them  received  pensions  as  soldiers  of  the  Civil  War,  where 
they  also  fought,  before  they  were  recognized  as  worthy  of 
Mexican  War  Pensions;  and  no  Mexican  War  Soldiers  if  they 
had  been  in  the  Civil  War  received  any  other  pension  in  recog- 
nition of  their  services  as  Mexican  War  Soldiers.  Some  became 
poor  and  old  and  suffered  from  poverty,  and  never  received 
Pensions,  for  they  died.  Others,  decrepit  and  old,  and  without 
means  had  to  spend  their  last  days  in  poorhouses.  It  is  pathe- 
tic to  read  the  resolutions  they  adopted  at  their  annual  meet- 
ings, and  that  were  sent  to  a  thankless  country  that  refused 
them  recognition  and  honor.  They  have  almost  all  passed  off 
the  stage  of  action  now— those  old  soldiers  who  did  so  much  to 
make  their  country  great.  Effingham  County,  Illinois,  sent  a 
goodly  number  of  men  to  this  War  and  two  of  these  are  with  us 
yet,  Capt.  Thomas  Dobbs  in  his  eighty-fourth  year,  who  served 
in  the  Mexican  War  and  the  Civil  War,  and  Mr.  James  Tucker 
who  was  in  the  Mexican  War  only.  Many  able  and  noted  men 
of  Illinois  and  of  the  United  States  served  in  this  War  as  we 
all  know,  and  became  famous  as  Soldiers  of  the  Civil  War 
after  that.  When  the  Mexican  War  Veterans  met  in  Effing- 
ham  in  1884  they  had  a  rousing  welcome  and  a  good  time  with 
us  because  so  many  of  ours  had  been  in  that  War.  The  very 
best  we  had  was  theirs  while  they  staid  with  us.  For  some 
services  I  rendered— making  an  address  and  writing  a  song  to 
to  be  sung— I  was  repaid  with  an  honorary  membership  in  the 
Association,  which  I  greatly  prize.  In  my  pilgrimages  to  and 
fro  across  the  land  I  see  the  splendid  gifts  our  American  Sol- 
diers of  the  Mexican  War  gave  us.  They  never  [lost  a  battle 
was  their  proud  boast,  and  America  received  the  honor;  they 
enriched  all  of  us;  they  set  things  in  order  in  Mexico,  and  child- 
ren and  women  came  to  them  for  protection ;  they  were  safe  in 
our  camps.  It  makes  me  sad  they  had  to  wait  so  long  for  Pen- 
sions from  an  ungrateful  Country,  and  that  so  many  suffered 
because  of  it.  When  it  now  is  proposed  to  give  the  few  who 
remain  an  added  pension  it  seems  a  tardy  recompense,  and  is 


390  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

toD  late  for  the  most  of  them.  The  Old  Settler's  Association  in 
Effingham  County  always  introduces  the  Mexican  War  Veterans 
at  its  meetings,  and  they  always  receive  a  gift  of  value. 

No  real  history  of  the  Mexican  War  has  been  written.  I 
wish  some  one  would  undertake  the  task.  The  story  would 
read  like  a  Romance  to  us  now. 

At  Shelby  ville  in  1886  the  following  resolutions  were  passed 
by  the  Mexican  Veterans:  — 

'  'Resolved  that  we  shall  no  more  ask  for  recognition  from 
the  Government  we  have  enriched,  and  that  we  have  the  conso- 
lation of  knowing  that  the  gold  and  silver  we  wrested  from  Mex- 
ico has  enabled  the  people  to  build  Poor  Houses  and  furnish  graves 
to  the  humblest  of  us". 

''Resolved  that  so  long  as  we  shall  be  able  to  stagger  on  the 
road  that  we  shall  continue  to  meet,  talk  over  old  times,  and  the 
fires  of  loyalty  shall  burn  in  our  hearts  as  brightly  as  they  did 
forty  years  ago". 

And  now  there  remains  but  so  few;  they  fought,  they  suf- 
fered, they  grieved,  they  died.  When  the  old  sectional  hates 
have  died  out  that  kept  our  old  Mexican  Patriots  out  of  their 
honors  and  pensions,  when  the  United  States  realizes  all  that 
war  meant  to  the  future  of  America,  we  shall  remember  them 
in  song  and  story  and  in  monuments.  Suppose  Mexico  had 
been  annexed  to  the  United  States,  which  it  could  have  been ; 
what  blessings  would  have  come  to  Mexico,  as  the  old  soldier 
wrote;  but  with  a  Country  distracted  and  torn  over  Slavery, 
and  our  soldiers  in  the  field  suffering  because  of  it,  Mexico  as 
well  as  the  United  States  lost  out.  No  such  foolish  fusses  re- 
tarded the  World  movement  at  the  close  of  the  Spanish- Ameri- 
can War.  We  laid  our  hands  on  Cuba  and  Porta  Rica  and  on 
the  Phillipines  to  bless  them,  not  to  blemish  them,  and  back  of 
this  lies  other  things  we  do  not  yet  know;  for  the  future  seems 
big  with  matters  of  moment  to  the  World,  through  that  power 
which  runs  ever  from  the  West,  from  Euphrates  and  Tigris  and 
Nile  and  Palestine  and  Europe  and  Great  Britain  and  America 
and  the  Mexican  War  and  the  Spanish-American  War.  We 
were  impelled  Westward  by  a  force  as  irresistable  as  the  force 
that  moves  the  stars,  to  our  Destiny. 

How  much  the  Mexican  War  affected  our  farm  life  no  one 


A  LOVE  STORY  391 

had  yet  told  us,  but  the  farm  lands  of  the  United  States  every- 
where have  been  increased  in  value  by  the  sacrifices  of  the 
seventy  thousand  men  who  "never  lost  a  battle";  who  brought 
an  ill-regulated  people  to  order,  and  who  added  treasures  be- 
yond computation  to  our  Nation's  wealth,  for  good,  and  did  this 
Country  honor,  and  gave  it  power. 

Edward  S.  Holbrook  of  Chicago,  a  Lieutenant  in  the  1st 
Ills.  Reg't  of  Mexican  War  Volunteers,  at  a  meeting  held  at 
Chicago  Sept.  llth  and  12th,  1889,  read  a  poem  he  called— The 
Mexican  War— from  which  the  verse  that  follows  is  taken,  and 
which  suggests  much,  after  all  these  years. 

"Ill-starred,  distracted  Mexico  all  at  her  fate  must  weep; 
Should  we  have  bound  her  to  our  car,   and  drawn  her  up 

the  steep? 
Then  freedom  learning  labor  law,  had  given  her  peace  and 

rest, 
And  she  had  mounted  to  her  place  and  sat  among  the  best". 

Had  Sectional  hates  not  been  so  hot  there  is  little  doubt 
Mexico  to-day  would  be  United  States  Territory,  which  any  one 
can  see  would  have  been  better  for  Mexico,  and  the  United 
States  as  well,  as  things  are;  we  see  it  now.  Chas.  C.  Holden 
of  Chicago,  with  Edward  Holbrook  of  the  same  place,  were 
the  live  wires  of  the  Illinois  Association  of  Veterans  of  the 
Mexican  War  and  in  the  National  Association  as  well;  both 
were  able  men,  both  lawyers  and  enthusiasts  who,  so  long  as 
they  lived,  hammered  at  the  doors  of  Congress  for  justice  to 
the  Mexican  War  Volunteers  and  for  Pensions,  and  after  long 
disappointing  years  of  labor,  both  lived  to  see  pensions  granted 
if  they  were  niggardly  in  the  extreme,  from  our  Country  which 
has  not  yet  given  just  tribute  to  those  faithful  warriors  of  1846- 
47  and  48,  who  never  lost  a  battle  and  who  established  the  name 
of  the  United  States  as  a  humane  and  good  and  great  people, 
who  went  to  War,  to  do  good.  The  National  Association  of 
Mexican  War  Veterans  as  that  of  Illinois  and  the  other  States 
has  ceased  almost.  Their  lives  have  ended;  their  race  is  run, 
but  their  Fame  will  grow  brighter  with  the  years. 


392 


A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


HAIL,  HAIL  YE! 

WRITTEN  FOR  MY  CHILDREN  TO  SING-  ON  DECORATION"  DAY.— AIR  AMERICA. 

Hail,  hail  ye  who  to-day, 

We  honor  as  we  may, 
With  song  and  word; 

Bright  shall  thy  memory  be, 
Far  over  land  and  sea, 

Glorious  the  destiny, 
Thy  deeds  record. 

Freedom  showers  down  on  us, 
Won  by  hands  now  in  dust, 

Her  richest  joys; 
Rev'rent  thy  praise  we  sing, 

Thankful  thy  grand  deeds  bring 
To  make  the  heavens  ring 

Without  alloy. 

Oh,  ye  who  silent  lie, 

Under  the  soft  spring  sky, 
Tented  for  aye, 

Flowers,  bright  flowers,  we  bring 
As  our  poor  offering, 

All  Nature's  blossoming 
This  best  May  day. 


A  LOVE  STORY  393 

Gladly  the  children  come, 

Willing  their  light  feet  run, 
They  strew  bright  flowers; 

Quickly  their  young  hearts  beat 
Softly  their  lips  repeat 

Each  hero's  fame  complete 
Through  May's  bright  hours. 

Oh  Thou  dear  Lord  of  all, 

Hear  to  our  earnest  call, 
We  bless  Thy  name, 

Help  each  and  all  to  be 
Faithful  to  Home  and  Thee 

So  that  far  times  may  see 
Our  heroes  fame. 


394  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

I  AM  ELECTED  A  SCHOOL  DIRECTOR. 

In  Effingham  I  served  three  years  as  School  Director  being 
elected  April,  1880.  Oh,  that  was  a  task;  the  President  of  the 
Board  despised  women  in  Public,  and,  I  think  did  not  like 
me,  and  he  made  my  life  a  misery.  I  sweat  under  his  rule.  I 
did  my  best  in  every  way  as  Secretary  of  the  Board,  but  at  times 
he  would  let  loose  and  tear  like  a  mad  man  at  everything  and 
everybody. 

A  friend  said  to  me  "I'd  resign.  I'd  not  take  such  treat- 
ment". But  I  said  "Well,  I  need  to  learn,  and  surely  will 
never  have  such  a  chance  as  I  am  having  under  this  rude  man ; 
I'll  stay  and  take  it  as  a  schooling".  "Well"  he  said  "if  that's 
the  way  you  look  at  it  go  ahead",  and  I  did,  and  I  was  fitted 
for  many  a  hard  task  that  fell  upon  me  later  on,  by  this  severe 
treatment  I  endured. 

I  was  the  first  woman  School  Director  in  Effingham,  and 
Effingham  County.  I  was  followed  by  many  others.  It  was  a 
great  agitation  for  better  things  for  women.  I  was  a  candidate 
many  times  for  States  Attorney,  County  Superintendent  of 
Schools— in  fact,  I  was  a  stock  candidate;  and  if  any  candidate 
was  lacking,  I'd  go  on  the  ticket  and  make  the  best  fight  pos- 
sible, and  people  would  raise  all  sorts  of  questions,  and  we 
would  argue  them  just  as  if  there  were  a  possibility  of  my 
election,  when  there  wasn't  a  ghost  of  a  show  but  it  was  good 
agitation.  Once  I  beat  the  Greenback  candidate  for  States 
Attorney,  getting  many  more  votes  than  he.  He  was  dreadfully 
plagued  over  it  for  everybody  took  a  nip  at  him;  but  all  was 
fish  that  came  to  my  net,  I  was  a  School  Director  for  three 
years,  and  I  did  good  service  I  think  in  this  way, —and  as  much 
as  I  could  otherwise.  I  did  not  care  for  a  reelection  I  had 
learned  my  lesson. 


A  LOVE  STORY  395 

THERE  IS  A  LAW, 

"Never  yet  were  the  feelings  and  instincts  of  our  Nature 
violated  with  impunity;  Never  yet  was  the  voice  of  conscience 
silenced  without  retribution".— Mrs.  Jamison. 

One  summer  I  was  trying  to  bring  an  uplift  to  the  souls  of 
men  and  women  in  my  County,  and  it  was  a  hard  task.  I 
began  by  asking.  '  'How  many  of  you  look  into  the  Heavens  at 
night,  and  at  the  stars"?  I  was  amazed  to  find,  as  I  made  my 
rounds  from  Church  to  school  house  and  open  places,  how  few 
used  that  mighty  uplift  of  the  soul  and  body.  I  thought  of  an 
old  German  who  said  of  men  "Vir  sind  Ameisen". 

I  found  so  few  who  used  that  great  open  University,  free  to 
all,  to  culture  the  best  within  them.  One  who  looks  in  the  sky 
at  night,  will  be  forced  to  say,  sooner  or  later,  "When  I  consid- 
er Thy  heavens  the  works  of  thy  fingers,  what  is  man  that 
Thou  art  mindful  of  him;  and  the  son  of  man  that  Thou  visitest 
him"? 

There  will  grow  in  his  soul  an  uplift  that  teaches  him  that 
the  little  standard  that  makes  a  man  his  own  pattern  of  the 
best,  is  a  pitiful  thing;  and  that  there  is  a  pattern  that  all  men 
need  that  shall  bring  them  unto  a  knowledge  of  the  creed  Jesus 
taught  and  shall  lift  them  up  as  He  was  lifted  up.  I  see 
parents  sacrificing  to  have  their  children  learn  the  lessons  of 
schools,  and  music,  and  to  get  them  good  clothes,  and  a 
chance  to'  live  at  ease;  and  I  see  so  often  parents  brought  low 
by  the  disapointments  of  their  children's  lives.  The  father 
and  mother  who  take  the  little  child  out  under  the  stars  and 
teaches  it,  and  of  the  One  who  created  them  and  all  things, 
will  find  a  greatness  growing  in  the  child's  nature  that  surpas- 
ses the  teachings  of  the  schools,  and  that  is  a  beauty  like  the 
beauty  of  the  stars.  Who  can  speak  of  those  wonderful  lights 
that  sparkle  in  the  Firmament  at  night  and  not  feel  moved? 
On  nights  when  the  moon  is  up,  from  the  time  she  first  shows 
her  delicate  cresent  until  the  whole  world  is  radiant  with  her 
splendor,  what  opportunities  for  culture  of  the  highest.  I  had 
rather  take  a  little  child  and  hold  it  on  my  knees  or  put  my  arms 
around  it,  and  teach  it  of  the  stars  and  the  other  heavenly 


396  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

bodies,  than  of  any  creed,  or  art  or  idea.  If  I  am  filled  with 
the  love  of  God,  and  with  the  marvels  of  creation,  the  child  will 
grow  to  the  heavenly  in  mind  and  spirit  and  body,  and  will  get 
a  great  education  that  is  worth  while.  "The  heavens  declare 
the  glory  of  God,  day  unto  day  uttereth  speech,  and  night  unto 
night  giveth  knowledge".  I  love  to  lose  a  young  person  among 
the  stars  and  leave  him  to  find  his  way  back  to  God  and  him- 
self. 

Two  boys  once  came  to  a  Fair  in  our  County  and  called  at 
the  W.  C%  T.  U.  headquarters  where  I  was,  and  asked  for  sup- 
per, and  work  to  pay  for  it.  We  had  them  bring  us  a  couple  of 
cans  of  water  and  the  three  of  us  who  were  in  charge  gave  them 
a  good  supper.  I  began  to  quiz  them  and  said  '  'What  are  you 
doing  here?"  "Riding  race  horses".  One  was  from  Kankakee, 
where  he  said  his  father,  an  English  stone  Mason,  worked  at 
the  Insane  Asylum.  The  other,  more  shy,  told  us  but  one 
thing,  that  he  was  from  Chicago.  I  said  to  the  boy  who  rode 
race  horses  "Aren't  you  afraid  you  will  get  your  neck  broken 
when  you  turn  the  corner  by  that  fence  along  the  track"? 
"Well",  he  said,  "what  matters;  there's  nothing  hereafter". 
Then  I  said,  "Do  you  ever  look  in  the  sky  at  night?"  That 
was  such  an  easy  thing  to  do  I  saw  they  wanted  us  to  think 
they  did.  "Do  you  know  how  many  stars  there  are"?  The 
boy  from  Chicago  had  a  light  come  in  his  face  and  he  said, 
"About  eighty  millions".  I  said,  "You  are  a  warm,  as  we  say 
in  hunting  the  slipper.  The  men  who  know  best  say  there  are 
about  one  hundred  million  stars  to  be  seen  by  the  naked  eye  and 
the  best  telescopes,  but  beyond  that  are  millions  and  millions  that 
they  tell  us  man  never  saw  and  never  can  see.  Did  you  ever 
see  a  Comet?"  "Well,  no";  "Well,  a  Comet  is  a  bright  object 
in  the  sky  with  a  head  like  a  star  and  a  tail  millions  of  miles 
long.  Sometimes  a  man  looking  about  the  heavens  finds  one 
and  says  "I  see  a  Comet;  I  have  found  one;  I  will  name  it  for 
myself".  And  everybody  looks  and  wonders.  And  then  he 
says  this  Comet  will  go  away,  and  it  will  not  return  for  two 
hundred  years;  men  come  and  go  who  look  into  the  sky  and 
they  say  that  comet  will  come  back;  and  two  hundred  years 
roll  by  and  one  day  the  cry  goes  round  the  earth  "that  Comet 
has  come  back".  Now  Sons,  where  was  that  comet  all  those 


A  LOVE  STORY  397 

years"?  The  boys  did  not  reply  and  I  said,  "Our  earth  is  a 
star  among  other  stars,  and  it  is  twenty-five  thousand  miles 
around,  and  it  turns  around  every  twenty-four  hours,  and  that 
is  more  than  a  thousand  miles  an  hour;  that  is  faster  than  you 
go  round  the  track  on  your  race  horses.  And  then  our  earth 
travels  round  the  sun  every  twelve  months;  that  is  a  much 
larger  track  than  it  travels  each  day;  it  goes  two  ways  at  once; 
once  it  travels  on  its  axis,  then  it  keeps  turning  around  the  sun 
twelve  months  in  Spring,  Summer,  Autumn  and  Winter.  Then 
our  earth  and  sun  and  moon  and  stars  are  all  moving  together 
in  another  track  so  large  that  no  one  can  tell  the  size  of  it  yet 
for  it  has  not  rounded  the  arc  of  a  circle,  which  is  a  curved 
line,  and  until  it  does,  no  one  can  measure  the  size  of  the  circle 
it  travels  in.  Everything  is  in  motion  in  the  heavens  and  there 
are  no  collisions,  nor  accidents.  Can  you  explain  all  this?  Why 
do  not  the  stars  fall;  they  are  heavy?"  The  poor  little  laddies 
were  silent.  "Well  boys"  I  said,  "we  say  the  heavenly  bodies 
are  held  in  their  places  and  kept  in  order  by  the  Will  of  God. 
Do  not  be  too  sure  there  is  nothing  hereafter." 

Two  other  boys  to  whom  I  told  this  story  of  the  stars,  were 
disputing  about  the  Great  Dipper. 

One  had  a  good  education ;  the  other  but  little,  but  he  knew 
more  about  the  stars  for  he  said  the  dipper  changed  its  position, 
and  the  other  boy  said  it  did  not.  I  said,  '  'How  did  you  find 
that  out",  calling  him  by  name.  "Oh",  he  said,  "When  I  go 
coon  hunting  I  sometimes  get  lost  and  I  find  my  way  home  by 
the  Dipper".  So  there  is  one  advantage  in  Coon  hunting,  it 
teaches  men  to  look  at  the  stars.  I  was  talking  to  a  man  once 
who  was  a  scoffer,  and  I  told  him  the  story  of  the  stars  and  of 
the  two  boys,  and  he  laughed  and  said  he  had  learned  when 
fox  hunting  at  night  to  tell  the  time  with  great  exactness  by 
the  stars,  and  I  could  see,  more  of  such  teachin'g  would  have 
led  him  upward  and  Godward. 

The  ancients  studied  the  heavens  and  became  wise,  and 
Astrology  in  time  became  Astronomy.  They  cast  the  horo- 
scope of  every  new  born  child  by  the  stars.  Each  man  and 
woman  had  his  or  her  star.  The  wise  men  of  the  East  followed 
a  star;  the  Angels  sang  a  heavenly  chorus  when  a  certain  star 
appeared,  we  are  told.  We  need  the  stars  to  uplift  us  and  lead 


398  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

us  to  a  greater  nearness  to  the  Most  High.  I  often  wish  men 
like  Edison  would  study  the  stars,  that  they  might  assert  and 
cease  to  deny  God,  or  at  least  learn  to  affirm  Him  to  us  to  our 
uplift.  In  my  Bible  I  have  a  little  item  credited  to  Edison 
which  says;— "From  Chemistry  I  can  almost  prove  the  exist- 
ence of  God".  I  say,  when  men  study  the  works  of  God  not  so 
much  for  commercial  results  as  to  know  Him,  then  shall  we  be- 
gin to  know  the  deep  things  of  God  and  demonstrate  them;  if 
they  would  only  study  the  stars  and  tell  us  what  they  learned. 

David  loved  God  and  studied  the  heavens.  He  is  not  ex- 
celled or  equalled  in  knowledge  or  wisdom  in  this  age  of  great 
opportunity  by  any  man  or  woman.  I  welcome  any  new 
thought,  and  in  this  age,  when  the  old  things  are  passing,  I  am 
glad  the  teachings  of  Mary  Baker  Eddy,  of  Flamarion,  of 
Weltmer,  of  Trine,  of  Dubois,  of  Hudson,  of  Towne,  of  Schofield 
and  others,  have  forced  Churches  and  Colleges  of  the  highest, 
and  Medics,  to  study  God  in  Psyshic  laws,  for  it  presages  a  day 
when  men  of  Science  shall  study  God  and  affirm  Him,  and  cease 
to  deny  Him,  and  shall  lead  us  to  know  more  of  Him.  Oh,  how 
much  we  long  for  this  help.  I  am  glad  the  Catholic  Church 
holds  fast  to  miracles  and  Angels. 

If  these  are  hypotheses,  they  have  made  life  more  desirable 
and  cheerful,  and  helped  keep  God  alive  in  us. 

I  do  not  belong,  so  to  speak,  to  any  of  these  schools  of 
teaching,  but  I  bid  them  God  speed  and  I  am  glad  we  have  them 
on  the  earth  in  my  day.  There  is  nothing  in  any  of  them  that 
to  me  seems  incompatable  with  Christianity.  They  seem  to  me 
to  be  expansions  of  the  same,  and  the  fact  that  they  are  creed- 
less  and  not  dogmatic,  is  an  evidence  they  posess  that  Freedom 
which  Christ  had,  and  that  is  an  evolution  of  the  life  in  God  that 
worked  in  Him,  and  that  he  said  we  ought  to  have  in  us.  Christ 
was  the  greatest  of  the  Psychics.  Not  only  the  Christ  was  the 
"I  am  that  I  am";  each  of  us  is  "I  am  that  lam";  and  the 
spirit  in  us  is  greater  than  the  body,  and  we  need  to  realize  it 
daily,  and  that  There  is  a  Law  in  us;  that  makes  us  realize  our 
subjection  to  that  highest  good  and  true  and  sweet  and  noble 
and  intellectual,  the  highest  we  can  conceive,  that  is  all  powerful 
and  that  we  call  God.  Let  me  keep  myself  right  with  God  in 
the  highest,  and  all  the  best  things  in  me  can  grow  and  I  can 


A  LOVE  STORY  399 

grow,  and  I  can  look  my  fellow  man  in  the  face  without  afflic- 
tion and  without  fear.  There  are  depths  and  heights  in  all  of 
us  that  we  do  not  yield  to  those  about  us;  they  are  things  we 
have  a  right  to  keep  between  ourselves  and  God,  and  so  obey 
the  law  that  in  the  highest,  for  There  is  a  Law. 

Now  that  so  many  deny  God,  and  the  Devil  is  treated  with 
the  greatest  disrespect,  not  to  say  denied  an  existence,  and 
since  Hell  is  quite  out  of  fashion,  and  Heaven  even  is  dis- 
puted, we  can  no  longer  lash  sinners  into  repentance  or  Salva- 
tion. The  Devil  and  Hell  were  once  the  great  powers  to  drive 
men  to  and  into  the  Church;  what  shall  it  ba  now  since  God, 
the  Devil,  Heaven  and  Hell  are  all  declared  nil? 

I  have  asked  many  young  preachers  what  incentives  they 
used  to  "win  souls"  since  these  three  potent  powers  were  so 
damaged.  I  have  had  no  one  answer  me  that  question.  The 
Church  still  airs  these  old  dogmas  of  hell  and  the  devil  on  oc- 
casions, but  the  most  of  the  "draw"  now  a  days  is  the  per- 
sonal influence  of  the  preacher  and  the  social  life  of  the  Church. 
It  is  true  the  Church  is  a  great  force.  I  love  her  in  spite  of 
her  faults  and  weaknesses,  but  she  ought  to  take  higher  ground, 
and  how  we  long  for  her  to  so  so.  I  can  worship  in  any  Church, 
except  the  Mormon's  who  are  lawbreakers  and  liars  at  heart; 
and  the  people  who  preach  annihilation  to  -everybody  who  re- 
fuses their  doctrines,  I  cannot  tolerate. 

I  asked  a  young  preacher  once  what  he  would  do  to  get 
men  into  his  Church,  and  he  said  "I  have  no  trouble".  I  found 
later  that 'he  played  the  clown  to  his  audiences.  Well,  what 
shall  be  done  since  all  the  old  time  forces  have  been  disposed 
of  that  draw  men  God  ward  and  to  the  Churches?  I  have  often 
meditated  on  this  question,  when  I  sat  hearing  preachers  thrash- 
ing a  lot  of  old  theological  straw  that  had  been  pounded  over 
and  over  again  till  there  was  no  life  in  it.  It  seems  to  me 
people  are  hungry  for  the  bread  of  life,  and  get  a  stone.  It 
seems  to  me  the  preachers  do  not  know  enough  to  feed  them. 
The  old  dogmas  and  the  old  creeds  are  paralyzing  in  their 
effects  on  the  many,  and  they  get  away  from  the  needs  of  men 
by  their  false  teaching  and  by  their  lack  of  truth.  Churches 
should  teach  the  law  written  in  man,  not  dogmas.  People 
could  not  reject  this  truth;  it  would  grow  more  in  their  lives  and 


400  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

compel  them  to  the  truth.  The  youngsters  look  around  and 
see  many  of  the  "old  pillars"  comfortably  sleeping  in  Church 
and  so  conclude  they  must  be  mistaken  as  to  the  horrors  of 
Hell  and  the  Devil,  and  besides,  they  know  much  of  the  lives 
of  these  same  "pillars". 

But  there  is  a  law  that  no  one  can  escape.  That  Law  runs 
down  the  ages;  and  it  is  time  men  knew  it.  The  Church  must 
teach  it  or  die.  The  Bible  is  full  of  it.  "Be  not  deceived,  God 
is  not  mocked".  We  have  been  so  occupied  with  creed  poison- 
ing; God  is  three  persons  in  one;  that  sprinkling  was  sufficient; 
that  it  was  not  sufficient;  that  one  was  lost  if  he  were  not  im- 
mersed; that  woman  is  the  source  of  all  evil;  that  confession 
only  could  save  us;  that  God  was  as  mean  as  a  mean  man;  that 
we  were  foreordained  to  be  saved  or  damned;  that  there  were 
infants  in  hell  a  span  long  etc.  ad  lib.  We  know  the  stars  run 
in  their  order;  we  know  the  law  of  gravitation  in  a  sense.  We 
know  we  control  that  marvelous  something  called  electricity; 
we  know  the  principle  of  the  plane,  the  crank,  the  screw,  and 
all  their  combinations  and  complications;  we  have  subjugated 
steam;  we  have  forced  many  of  the  secrets  of  Nature  from  her; 
we  begin  to  understand  the  psychic  life  somewhat  and  use  it  to 
master  the  body;  we  know  that  the  Universe  is  everywhere 
governed,  by  law;  yet,  we  seem  to  think  man  is  free  from  the 
law,  or  can  make  his  own  law.  But  man  is  as  subject  to  law  as 
the  stars,  the  sun,  the  moon,  the  comet,  the  chrystal,  everything 
that  is.  Of  Heredity  we  know  enough  to  prove  that  the  sins 
of  the  parents,  are  visited  on  the  children;  that  the  freedom 
and  greatness  of  a  Nature  depends  on  the  freedom  of  the 
Individual;  chattle  slavery  of  man  to  man  has  vanished,  though 
Commercial  and  Social  and  religious  slavery  remain  to  the  det- 
rement  of  the  people. 

Since  Adam  the  man  has  demanded  liberty  to  do  as  he 
pleases,  and  with  woman;  and  the  harlot  sits  unchecked  in  al- 
most every  community;  she  is  lauded  as  the  "Priestess  of  hu- 
manity", when  she  is  its  curse,  the  scourge  of  the  race;  the 
horrible  plague,  the  law  of  God  places  upon  her,  ravages  the 
earth,  yet  men  still  demand  the  harlot.  England  hired  pro- 
curesses for  their  Army  in  India  and  ruined  thousands  of 
Native  girls,  the  Chackla  was  in  every  Cantonment.  When  the 


A  LOVE  STORY  401 

United  States  first  went  into  the  Phillipines  the  Army  Officials 
licensed  prostitution,  till  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  broke  it  up  as  in  India. 
Men  demand  the  licensing  of  the  harlots,  and  all  Europe  follows 
that  system  and  it  is  initially  practiced  in  all  our  large  cities  the 
world  over;  men  and  women  are  born  as  a  consequence,  abso- 
lutely deficent  in  sex  morality,  as  Kraft  Ebbing's  terrible  book 
shows;  they  know  nothing  morally.  The  White  Slave  Trade  is 
wrapped  around  the  earth;  by  the  modern  stage,  the  young  and 
old  alike  are  corrupted;  divorces  fill  the  Courts;  young  harlots 
steal  the  rich  husbands  of  virtuous  wives;  race  suicide,  ought 
much  of  it  to  be  called  Race  Impossibility,  and  occupies  many  hys- 
terical men.  The  Church  is  wailing  and  wringing  her  hands; 
but  why  don't  Church  and  Reformers  teach  that  There  is  a 
Law,  certain  and  sure,  not  to  be  evaded,  escaped  or  denied? 
We* howl  at  consequences;  we  do  not  teach  causes.  I  believe 
if  the  little  child  were  taught  of  the  stars  and  that  his  own  life 
was  subject  to  a  law  as  certain  as  the  heavenly  bodies  are,  it 
would  not  be  easy  for  him  to  break  the  law  of  God  written  in  his 
body.  "Life  would  on  and  upward  go". 

Let  us  learn  There  is  a  Law  in  Us,  as  certain  as  the  law 
that  governs  the  celestial  spheres  and  spaces.  Let  us  learn 
that  obedience  to  that  law  is  Natural.  Let  the  Churches,  the 
schools,  the  fathers  and  mothers  teach  it,  and  it  will  not  matter 
what  anyone  thinks  of  God,  the  Devil,  or  Heaven  or  Hell. 
When  each  one  knows  he  has  a  Law  within  him  that  he  cannot 
escape,  that  is  God  and  Heaven,  or  the  Devil  and  Hell.  As  the 
Universe  is  so  rich,  so  full  of  usable  material  and  the  things  to 
be  discovered  beckon  us  on,  and  we  know  there  will  be  no  exhaus- 
tion of  the  theme,  men  will  flock  to  hear  of  the  Law  they  can- 
not escape,  if  it  is  taught.  They  will  learn  that  underneath  it 
all  is  Righteousness,  and  they  will  learn  to  hunger  and  thirst 
after  Righteousness  as  David  did,  and  they  shall  be  filled,  for 
that  too,  is  part  of  the  law  of  God  within  ourselves.  There  is 
a  Law,  terrible  and  sure,  and  certain  in  its  consequences— 
sooner  or  later. 
There  is  a  Law. 


402  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


RELIGIONIST-MATERIALIST. 

AFTER  READING  AUGUST  BABEL'S  BOOK  "WOMAN  PAST,  PRESENT 
AND  FUTURE." 

The  Religionist  and  the  Materialist,  together  reach  a  point 
where  both  must  confess  they  know  nothing,  absolutely.  The 
Religionists  takes  hold  by  faith,  on  God,  and  develops  spirit- 
ually, and  out  of  this  faith  grows  the  loveliest  and  best  the 
human  race  knows  and  enjoys.  The  Materialist  endures 
dumbly,  maybe  cheerfully,  his  Fate,  but  he  has  not  that  which 
blossoms  into  beauty  and  joy  for  the  race.  He  has  not  learned 
of  the  law  of  God  within  himself. 


A  LOVE  STORY  403 

KRISHNA  MULVANEY  PHILOSOPHER,  ET  AL. 

When  Terrance  Mulvaney  was  incarnated  as  the  God 
Krishna  in  that  great  God's  special  shrine  in  India,  he  found 
the  place  filled  with  Queens  and  Maharanees,  begging  that  God 
for  children,  and  bringing  offerings  of  gold  and  jewels  to  pay 
their  way  to  his  favor  that  they  might  bring  forth  more  child- 
ren. Terrance  tells  of  their  lying  prone  on  the  floor  and  beg- 
ging and  pleading  for  children.  Mulvaney  seems  to  have  prom- 
ised them  all  something  in  that  line,  and  when  he  got  through 
he  forced  the  priest  who  officiated  to  give  him  part  of  the  spoils 
he  took  from  these  pleading  women  for  he  told  him  that  for 
two  hundred  years  to  come  that  temple  and  he  would  reap  the 
benefit  of  the  Great  Krishna's  visit. 

Oriental  women  torment  their  priests  and  their  Gods  for 
children.  "Old  Red  Hat"  was  plagued  by  them  and  he  was 
ashamed  apparently,  to  be  about  such  small  business.  The 
common  women  of  the  Orient  breed  like  rabbits;  the  only  thing 
they  live  for  is  the  pleasure  of  their  Lords,  and  the  more  child- 
ren they  have  the  better  their  Lords  like  them.  These  wretched 
women,  robbed  of  every  right,  immured  in  Zenanas,  find  their 
only  chance  among  their  afflictions,  in  child-bearing;  to  be  sure 
there  is  always  the  chance  to  the  woman  that  her  son  may  suc- 
ceed his  father  and  she  get  honor  and  ease  and  attention  and 
power  as  the  ruler's  Mother. 

So  these  women  plague  their  Gods  for  children;  and  the 
old  women  pray  that  their  son's  wives  may  have  children,  and 
when  the  famines  come  and  the  cholera,  and  the  many  plagues, 
of  that  land,  these  half  naked,  miserable  wretches,  many  of 
whom  never  had  a  full  meal  in  their  lives,  and  who  tighten  the 
belt  to  assuage  the  hunger  and  pain  that  racks  the  stomach  for 
lack  of  food,  die— When  I  hear  a  lot  of  men  screeching  and 
howling  on  "race  suicide",  I  think  of  these  poor  wretches  of 
the  Orient  and  say  to  them,  the  howlers,  "Go  to.  What  do  you 
mean?  That  is  a  question  the  women  are  getting  ready  to  set- 
tle. ' '  Some  men  need  a  Kirshna  Mulvaney  Philosopher  it  seems 
to  me  to  instruct  them,  where  they  are  "at",  Mr.  Dooley  ought 
to  take  them  in  hand. 


404 


A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 


LOVE. 

"Now  Love  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law",  and  "God  is  Love". 
1  'Love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart  and  with  all  thy  soul 
and  with  all  thy  strength  and  with  all  thy  mind,  and  love  thy 
neighbor  as  thyself:  Upon  these  two  commandments  hang  all 
the  law  and  the  prophets",  said  Jesus,  who  was  the  greatest  and 
sweetest  lover  the  world  ever  knew.  —  ' '  Without  love,  I  am  noth- 
ing, ' '  said  Paul. 

Every  life  ought  to  be  a 
love  story.  Love,  is  the .  cen- 
tripetal force  of  the  Universe 
that  draws  all  things  together 
for  Good.  It  is  the  creative 
force  of  Nature  and  of  God. 
Love  is  a  divine  sun  that  illu- 
minates, warms,  elevates  and 
glorifies  man.  Life  is  rich  and 
full  and  complete  and  satisfy- 
ing and  inexhaustable,  with 
Love. 

The  men  on  the  Titanic 
who  chose  to  taste  certain 
death  for  the  sake  of  helpless 
women  and  children  gave  the 

world  a  demonstration  of  courage  and  sacrifice  that  was  Christ- 
like,  they  died  for  others.  In  tears  and  grief,  and  organ  peal 
the  world  responded  at  the  sight  and  was  lifted  up  to  a  nobler 
manhood  and  womanhood.  These  fulfilled  the  Divine  Law  of 
God.  "Greater  love  than  this  hath  no  man,  that  he  give  his 
life  for  another. 

The  women  who  chose  to  perish  with  their  husbands 
demonstrated  the  power  of  true'love  that  abides  between  hus- 
band and  wife,  and  that  lifts  above  the  fear  of  death,  and  the 
world  was  lifted  to  higher  places  in  True  Love  by  their  sacri- 
fices. 

The  Musicians  whose  lips  were  firm  to  their  instruments, 
and  who  consoled  the  dying  multitude  with  the  thought  of  hope 
and  life  to  come,  with  the  sweet  strains  of  "Nearer  My  God  to 


A  LOVE  STORY 


405 


Thee",  had  the  courage  of  great  soldiers  and  a  tender  sympa- 
thy for  their  fellowmen  that  was  divine. 

The  world  wept  and  wondered,  and  was  uplifted  at  such 
heroism  and  love,  and  it  saw  as  never  before  perhaps,  the 
Divine  in  men  of  every  kind.  Yes,  the  world  rose  and  wonder- 
ed and  wept  and  gave  homage,  for  beneath  it  all  was  courage, 
and  faith  and  love,  that  was  Godlike.  Man  was  seen  at  his  full 
stature  as  a  Son  of  God. 

'  'He  prayeth  best  who  loveth  best- 
All  things  both  great  and  small"  said  a  wise  one. 

I  send  my  love  story  along  the  wireless  lines  that  reach 
from  soul  to  soul  and  heart  to  heart  the  whole  world  round, 
knowing  that  much  will  be  excused  me— because  I  love. 

TEACH  ME. 

Oh,  bird,  dear  little  bird,  teach  me  to  sing, 

E'en  though  my  heart  is  sad; 

Sweet  Love,  o'erflow  my  soul  and  make  me  glad, 

Until  not  sorrowful,  but  joy  bells  ring, 

Through  every  day,  and  all  the  long,  long  night. 

Though  food  be  scant  and  friends  seem  few, 

Oh,  Love,  possess  me  through  and  through, 

That  I  like  thee  may  sing  a  happy  song, 

And  so  help  all  who  come  my  way  of  life  along. 


406  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

INDEX 


Dedication  4 

A  Love  Song  5 

Effingham  7 

I  Take  A  New  Part  In  the  Play  of  Life  10 

The  Beauty  and  Charm  of  My  Farm  13 

My  Father  and  Mother  15 

"Moege  IhrDie  Erde  Leicht  Sein"  17 

My  Partner  18 

Thy  Hand  22 

An  Epic  of  the  Corn  Fields  23 

A  Corn  Song  27 

Peacocks  29 

How  Old  Are  You  33 

The  Golden  Wedding  38 

Beginnings  40 

The  Consolation  of  the  Grass  41 

The  Sparrow  43 

The  Way  of  Sorrows  44 

Un  forgotten  46 

Hymns  of  All  Nations  47 

Repentance,   Confession,   Restitution,   Absolution  54 

Around  the  World  Four  Times  55 

Music  64 

A  School  Election  67 

The  Cardinal,  or  Red  Bird  71 

The  Red  Bird  72 

A  Morning  Elevation  73 

Messages  From  God  73 

The  Temple  74 

Im  Frueling  77 

Pruning  the  Grape  Vines  79 

The  Cat  Bird  81 

The  Fertile  Earth  82 
How  I  Broke  Up  the  Solid  Democratic  Township  of  the 

United  States  of  America        -  83 


A  LOVE  STORY  407 

With  Hoe  and  Tile  Spade  and  Corn  Knife  86 

The  Weather  Man,  Mr.  Groundhog  88 

The  Silo  90 

The  Honey  Bees  91 

Plant  A  Tree  95 

The  Walnut  Tree  97 

The  Boss  98 

Our  Horses  99 

Flower  Gowns  102 

The  Leaf  Wagon  103 
"Water?  Water  Everywhere  and  Not  A  Drop  to  Drink"        104 

The  Gentleman  in  Patches  107 

The  Orchard .      -  109 

The  Cats  112 

My  Diamond  Ring  117 

My  Dogs  118 

Barbed  Wire  Fences                .  125 

The  Coon  and  the  Cat  126 

To  Kill  or  to  Feed  128 

Potatoes,  Kartoffel  129 

The  Turkey  Bird  131 

The  Wheat  Fields  133 

The  Rye  Fields  135 

The  Oats  Fields  136 

The  Springs  137 

Black  Cattle  141 

The  White  Face  Cattle  143 

The  Sheep  144 

The  Making  of  A  Field  145 

I  Am  Arrested  and  Fined  $20  and  Costs  146 

Song -We've  Signt  Dot  Pledge  149 

So  152 

Rag  Carpets  and  Rugs  153 

With  A  Christmas  Offering  155 

The  Thrashers  156 

Do  Hogs  Think?    Well  I'd  Say,  Yes  158 

Haymaking  161 

Lines                         -  165 

The  Friendly  Herbs 166 


408  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

Baleing  the  Hay  167 

The  Lily  Pond  and  Water  Garden  169 

I  Fix  A  Field  170 

The  Farm  At  War  171 

In  the  Hay  Mows  173 

The  Freshets  174 

The  Clover  Fields  176 

The  Squirrels  179 

The  Fords  180 

Adventures  182 

Making  Roads  and  Ditches  189 

Sowing  Grass  and  Clover  Seed  191 

The  Fools  Play  193 

The  She  Bears  195 

The  Rose  Garden  196 

The  Sun  Dial  197 

Landing  Some  Post-Office  Officials  198 

Fairies,  Brownies,  Nymphs,  Gnomes  and  Genii    -  200 

Domestic  Science  and  Vinegar  202 

The  Nude  In  Art  204 

The  Fern  Beds,  and  Shrubs  and  Flowers  208 

The  Violet  209 

The  Cellar,  and  the  Chicken  House  in  the  Hills  210 

Hunters  211 

Vivisection  214 

Nurses  and  Nuns  224 

The  Midwife  And  the  Man  226 

The  Highest  Altitude  229 

The  Holy  Child  231 

Four  Angels  236 

The  Child  237 

Baby  'Cott  245 

It  Isn't  Fair  246 

Harlots  248 

The  Black  Plague  253 

Teaching  Life  256 

A  Noble  Life  260 

The  Assessor  261 

Before  the  Board  of  Review 233 


A  LOVE  STORY  409 

A  Suffragist 

Oh,  Mother  Dear  You  Ought  to  Vote 

Newspaper  Work 

Work  And  Its  Value 

The  Blacksmith 

Work  For  Boys  And  Girls 

A  Woman  On  the  Supreme  Bench 

I  Decide  A  Case  In  Court 

Be  Good 

Riddles 

David,  And  the  Bear  and  the  Lion 

A  County  President 

Drum  Chorus 

Edgar  Allen  Poe 

Jackie  Daw 

Chivalry 

The  Bible 

God's  Anvil 

The  Plan  of  Salvation 

Theologic  Creeds  And  Creed  Makers 

Honors  And  Appreciation 

Prayer 

The  Creed  of  Jesus 

Rich  Devil-Poor  God 

A  Freethinker 

Emerson  And  the  Hottentot 

Free  Masons 

Knights  Templars  Pilgrimages 

Ho-Ho  For  the  Golden  Gate 

The  Red  Cross  Knight 

My  Saint  Elizabeth 

What  the  Farmers  Need  In  Politics 

"The  Ever  Feminine  Draweth  On" 

Sonnet,  Written  In  A  Birthday  Book 

I  Bring  Houses  Up  the  Hill 

"Go  Ye,  and  Preach  the  Gospel  to  all  Nations" 

"As  God  Lives  Whatsoever  is  Excellent  is  Permanent." 

—Emerson.  360 

Culture  and  Credulity        -------         363 


410  A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER 

They  Try  to  Take  Me  In 364 

The  Blue  Jay  368 

Supplemental  Lives  369 

God's  Estimate  of  Man  371 

Statues  of  Women  373 

The  Servant  Girl  Question  375 

The  Grafter  377 
"The  True  Mother  is  She  Who  Numbers  Her  Children 

By  the  Thousand".  382 

Der  Leedle  Dedoughdaller  385 

Blessings  and  Cursings  386 

Mexican  War  Trophies  388 

Hail,  Hail  Ye  392 

I  Am  Elected  A  School  Director    -  394 

There  Is  A  Law  395 

Religionist-Materialist  402 

Krishna  Mulvaney  Philosopher,  et  al  403 

Love  404 
Teach  Me        --------         -         405 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS-URBANA 


A  FARM  PHILOSOPHER;  A  LOVE  STORY  TEUTOPO 


